Convenience
by kaser
Summary: Sterek. Prompt fill. Starts when Stiles goes to buy condoms for Scott at a gas station and runs into Derek. Follows the course of Stiles and Derek's relationship. Set about 2 years after series start Coda to 2x06 ish.
1. Convenience

Stiles was a good friend. Scott was not. But because Stiles was a good friend he was here, even if Scott didn't deserve it. Here being a gas station buying condoms. Stiles wasn't buying them for himself, no. Stiles was eternally trapped in the land of sexual frustration, he didn't need condoms. He was buying them for Scott. Scott, who needed more condoms because he and Allyson were going at it like two dogs in heat. Scott, who couldn't buy them himself because lacrosse, and mom, and sneaking around.

Stiles sighed as he surveyed the small assortment of sizes and brands. He was desperately tempted to get Scott the smallest ones available. It would serve him right, making Stiles think for even a moment about the size of his best friend's penis. He sighed again and grabbed the most flamboyant box of the regular size condoms.

Stiles did his best to cover the box with his hands as he stepped up to the short line. There wasn't anything wrong with a teenager buying condoms, but the last thing he wanted was for someone to see him and casually mention it to his father. Stiles couldn't imagine much worse than having the sex talk with his dad again, especially since he didn't actually get to have the sex. Stiles glanced around nervously, hoping not to spot anyone he knew.

And he didn't.

What he did spot was a shiny black car that was all too familiar. Stiles cringed slightly and made a more frantic visual sweep of the convenience store.

"Looking for someone?" came the familiar voice from behind him just as he decided it was someone else's car. Stiles half jumped, half tripped as he whirled around.

"Oh my god," he said with his 'I never expect you to be there' tone. He shook his head slightly and ran a hand through his short hair nervously. "Didn't see you there, Derek. I was just…uh…" Both of them looked down at the box in his hand. Stiles threw his hands out in a 'you totally didn't see that' way and then held the box behind him. Derek just looked at him as if he was his own punch line (which, let's face it, he was) and then glanced down with a bemused smirk.

"They're not for me," Stiles said quickly, wishing he hadn't.

"Right," Derek replied.

"They're for Scott." Derek raised one eyebrow, that bemused expression still on his face. There was a distinct implication in that look. "For Allyson!" He paused. "For Scott to use with Allyson," Stiles finished lamely, bobbing slightly from side to side as he brought the box back in front of him.

There was an awkward pause.

"What about you?" he asked, mentally kicking himself because he could see the six pack in Derek's hand. Derek gave him that cocky bastard smile of his and replied,

"Those wouldn't fit." Stiles' jaw dropped. The line moved forward and Derek stepped past him as he continued to just stare.


	2. Complexity

Stiles always seemed to wind up alone in the car with Derek. At first this had seemed very strange to Stiles. After all, Stiles was the most ordinary of all the people Derek could ask for help in these matters. Even when things were very tense and there was a firm battle line drawn between "Scott's" pack and Derek's, the older man had still asked Stiles to go on these sorts of missions with him. It had baffled Stiles to no end, so one day, after tensions had eased and Derek was more willing to actually talk with Stiles, he had asked.

"You might be physically weaker or more vulnerable than the others," Derek had said, "but you never let that stop you. Besides, I'm strong enough for the both of us; I'd rather have someone with me who can think." At the time Stiles had felt almost overwhelmed by the comment. He tended to think his contributions to the goings on were negligible but Derek seemed to find him equally, if not more, capable of handling any given situation.

So here they were again, in Derek's car for once while the jeep was out of commission, on what was basically a stakeout. They were keeping an eye on a small warehouse where they thought the latest beastie might be hiding, and they'd been sitting in the car for hours. Things were easier between him and Derek now, but Stiles still tried to keep a lid on his rambling because it would eventually get on the alpha's nerves. Still, after hours of sitting in silence staring at what seemed to be an empty building, Stiles couldn't help but talk.

"So…" he started, shifting and fidgeting slightly," what size condom _do_ you use?" Derek's chin lifted a few inches and he turned toward Stiles with his 'are you kidding me' glare that still seemed to pop up whenever Stiles opened his mouth in the car. "Oh come on, how can I not ask? I mean seriously, 'they wouldn't fit'? How big does it have to be…"

"Stiles!" Derek interjected roughly, cutting the younger man off. Stiles fidgeted again, glancing out his window and licking his bottom lip.

"You never know, someday you might be busy with wolfy shenanigans and need your buddy Stiles to make a fun run," Stiles offered as an excuse, knowing full well that nothing could compel Derek to do so. The older man sighed.

"They're in the glove box." Stiles shifted in an excited way, proud to have won, and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a small black box. He looked incredulously at the package before sliding out a condom and closing the rest back in the small compartment. He flicked the wrapper back and forth nervously as he tried and failed to keep his eyes from darting toward Derek's crotch.

"God that's unfair," Stiles sighed. He propped his elbow against the door and cradled his head in his free hand, making a sort of disgusted face at the condom. Derek returned to staring at the warehouse, his jaw set in an aggravated kind of way. Silence returned to the car. Derek was just starting to relax again when Stiles let out a strangled sort of whine and blurted out,

"Have you had sex with Erica?" Derek whipped back toward him with a threatening glare. "I know this is none of my business…" Stiles tried to let it go with that, he really did. "But she's been kinda… 'sex positive' since you turned her and I sometimes wonder if that's what you intended. Like a werewolf sex… thing." Stiles was trying not to look at the anger in Derek's eyes.

"No," the werewolf said flatly, angrily. Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

"Good because that might be kinda…"

"She wants to," Derek grumbled, now studiously avoiding eye contact himself. Stiles let out an incredulous laugh.

"That's not really… I mean look at you. You probably have women throwing themselves at you. You have a box of condoms in your car for god's sake," Stiles said, holding up the one in his hand as evidence.

"It's not like I can keep them in my nightstand," he ground out. It was true, Derek lived in one shithole after another; keeping condoms in your nightstand is out of the question when you don't have one. Stiles started fiddling with the condom unconsciously, turning it over and around between his fingers.

"Still, the car's gotta be like catnip," he said nervously. "I mean who wouldn't want to have sex in this baby? I'd probably let you do anything you wanted to me if it was in this car," Stiles said, honestly marveling at the sleek black Camaro. Derek visibly stiffened. "If I was a girl, I mean!" he corrected, realizing it sounded like he was propositioning Derek. He palmed the condom in an attempt to stop playing with it.

Silence reigned again, this time very awkward as Stiles burned with embarrassment and tried to make himself smaller in his seat. They sat like that for about an hour but as time wore on Stiles began to relax. Once Stiles had stopped being embarrassed his mind had started up again. He shifted so that he could look into the back seat, turned back again, glanced at Derek, turned around once more, and finally settled into the seat.

"How does that work anyway?" Stiles asked. Derek looked at him, mild confusion in his eyes.

"How does what work?" Derek asked calmly.

"Sex in this car?" Derek's jaw tightened, his eyes hardened, and he exhaled heavily though his nose. This was Derek's seriously annoyed face. Stiles didn't seem to care. "I mean, you're kind of a big guy," he paused, tripping over the unintended double entendre, "Seems like you and another person couldn't fit back there…"

"Stiles!"

"Especially if you were bumping and grinding…" Suddenly Derek was leaning across Stiles, aggression pouring off the set of his shoulders. Stiles straightened up and pressed himself against the back of the seat. Derek pulled up on the small handle between the seat and the door and Stiles and the passenger seat fell into full recline. "Oh," Stiles said with mild surprise. Derek sat back in his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, and sharp eyes focusing intently on the horizon.

Stiles didn't remain still for long. After a moment his eyes and head were surveying his new position, analyzing its merits. He leaned up on his elbows, lay back down, and stretched out his legs. He paused for another minute then tentatively lifted his knees toward his chest. Derek growled low and menacing and Stiles stretched his legs back out. He just laid there, hands resting on his abdomen, for a few minutes. Then his eyes were wandering again.

"How would you get a blowjob like this?" Again Derek's chin lifted, the body language indicating he might strangle Stiles if he didn't shut up. Stiles still seemed oblivious. "I mean you can't really…" Stiles scooted down in the seat, trying to work out the position and failing before sliding back again. "Bet then the other way you'd be like… crawling over them…" He was sideways leaning on his elbow when Derek let out another growl. This time Stiles seemed to notice because he didn't turn over the rest of the way to mount the headrest. Now he was just staring at Derek, waiting for an answer. Derek wondered how anyone could have so little shame. After twenty minutes of Stiles staring at him expectantly with his mouth slightly open, Derek let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's generally easier to do that _before_ you're both in the passenger seat," he answered begrudgingly. Stiles sat up.

"So what, you just lean across the stick shift and go to town?" Stiles asked, leaning forward so that their shoulders pressed together and looking down at Derek's lap.

At this point Derek had had enough. He grabbed Stiles roughly and slammed him back onto the passenger seat. When he returned his hand to the steering wheel his knuckles were white with the tightness of his grip. His overall body language was more stiff and menacing than it had been all night. Still, Stiles was back on the subject almost immediately.

"Is it hard to get… fluid stains out of the upholstery?" Stiles asked seriously. He seemed to ponder it a moment. "Is it hard to get your pants off? I mean, there's still not a lot of room to maneuver…"

"Stiles!" Derek was looking at him with those wide, incredulous eyes. "Do you want a demonstration?" he asked aggressively.

"Whoawhaaa-" was the sound that came out of Stiles' mouth. Derek's eyes gave him a quick once over and then returned to lock on Stiles. Somewhere in Stiles' brain it registered that Derek was serious. His mouth opened and he released a sort of disbelieving 'huh' before nodding deliberately.

Derek slipped off his jacket and hung it on the headrest. Then he was on top of Stiles, somehow moving from the driver's seat to the passenger's without any struggle. Derek's mouth, apparently eager to devour Stiles, was locked on his in the most passionate kiss the younger man had ever known. His hips were rocking against him in a way that stopped Stiles' brain instantly. Then Derek's hands were under his shirt, _feeling_ him, _touching_ him. Stiles had some vague notion that he should reciprocate but he'd gone from zero to ecstasy in 0.5 seconds and he couldn't remember how hands worked. Derek didn't seem to mind.

After they'd been making out for a solid ten minutes Derek paused to remove both of their shirts. And now Stiles remembered how hands worked because he had wanted to feel up that perfectly sculpted torso forever. One hand reached up to feel every muscle of Derek's upper body while Derek leaned into him, now attacking his jaw line, neck, and collar bone. The older man was kissing and biting him, and Stiles never knew biting could feel so good. He focused on breathing.

When Derek's fingers started unfastening his jeans he let out a strangled gasp and had to really think about inhaling and exhaling because he was so aroused and he wanted this so badly. He was glad Derek was handling this part because he knew instinctively that that button would have taken him an hour to undo. And even though he had asked about getting the pants off he still had no idea how it worked when they were both completely naked.

Somewhere at the back of his mind Stiles realized that he was naked in a car just parked on the side of the street. Somewhere it registered that someone, _anyone_, could find him at any moment, naked and horny and about to lose his virginity to Derek Hale in his sexy black car. But that didn't really matter to Stiles right now because he _was_ naked and horny and about to lose his virginity to Derek Hale in his sexy black car.

Stiles had a brief moment of confusion as Derek's fingers scraped across his, trying to pry them open without taking his attention from Stiles' neck. But then Stiles realized that he was still holding the condom he'd taken earlier and Derek wanted it. He opened his hand and let Derek take it, whimpering slightly when he paused to put it on. And Derek hadn't been lying about the size either.

Stiles tried to fight off a sudden bout of panic as he thought about what came next. Derek was huge and Stiles a virgin and this was going to _hurt_. But Derek was leaning into him again, gripping his cock now, and kissing him, and even though he was still nervous he felt too good to work up a real panic.

"Relax," Derek whispered seductively in Stiles' ear. And Stiles did relax because it quickly became apparent that Derek was a pro. His hand shifted and he was using his fingers, covered in lube from who knows where (the glove box, had there been a bottle there?) to carefully stretch and prepare Stiles for what was coming. When he was finished he whispered it again, and Stiles relaxed just a little more because he knew Derek would be gentle with him.

It did hurt, but in all the right ways, and Derek took his time to let Stiles adjust. He resumed the passionate kissing, possibly to distract Stiles from the pain that was completely unavoidable. Really it was unnecessary because he had also resumed stroking Stiles' dick, matching the rhythm to his thrusts which were slowly quickening.

It wasn't long at all before Stiles was coming hard in Derek's hand. A few more quick thrusts and Derek was coming too. Then he just sort of lay on top of Stiles, breathing him in. Stiles absently traced the spirals tattooed on Derek's back, soothing them both, cooling off. Eventually Derek propped himself up a bit. He gave Stiles a few lazy kisses where his jaw met his neck, just below the ear.

"Satisfied?" Derek whispered huskily.

"Mmmmm," Stiles hummed. "Might have to show me again later." Derek smiled warmly, happily.

"I can definitely do that," Derek replied, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

Then Derek was moving, cleaning up. He disposed of the condom in a small sealable trash bin tucked under the driver's seat then wiped Stiles' semen off the both of them with his shirt and slid his underwear and pants back on. He slid back into the driver's seat and covered Stiles with his jacket.

Stiles recalled vaguely that they were on a stakeout; the sex had been a gross dereliction of duty. He knew he should dress himself, put the seat up, and help Derek keep watch, but he couldn't muster the energy required. He stared at Derek's profile. The werewolf had gone back to watching the warehouse with a self satisfied smirk. He brought Stiles along to think, Stiles recalled, and he was thinking. He was thinking about everything he would do next time, how he would make Derek feel _so_ good. And then eventually he was dozing off, the strong safe scent of the alpha lulling him into sleep.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to NinjaPandaIzzy for looking this over for me before I posted and giving me helpful input on elements that needed tweaking.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed chapter 1 and encouraged me to write more. I know this isn't exactly what you guys asked for, but I hope you'll be satisfied.


	3. Confession

**Author's Note: This chapter marks a serious shift in tone from the first two chapters. It is how I think things would progress but it is not nearly as humorous as the first two chapters. If you don't care to keep reading feel free to quit here, the first two chapters can easily stand alone. Otherwise, enjoy the rest.**

It was almost 4am when the headlights of the police car filled up the rear view mirror. Derek sighed and checked to make sure his jacket still had Stiles properly covered. He wished his shirt was not a soiled mess in the back seat and tried to think how best to handle the situation. When the officer tapped on the window Derek rolled it down calmly.

"Sheriff," Derek said passively as the older man leaned down toward him.

"Mr. Hale," Sheriff Stilinski nodded, eyeing Derek's bare torso with a skeptical air. "Mind if I ask what you're doing parked out here in the middle of the night?"

"I was just…" Derek began to answer.

"Grrr," came the sleepy voice from the passenger's seat, drawing the Sheriff's flashlight and attention. Derek closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, all hope of avoiding an awkward situation gone. The Sheriff stood up again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary look.

"Is that…" he began.

"Yeah," Derek answered, not looking at the Sheriff.

"And you…"

"Yep," Derek replied tersely. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

"Are you starting to see why you should keep those activities in the bedroom rather than parked on the side of a public road?" he asked in the same tone he used to lecture his son.

"I'm starting to, yeah," Derek answered.

"I'm going to go back to my car now and I want you to start the engine and drive both of you to wherever it is you're living."

"Yes sir."

"And I don't want to have this conversation again, understand?"

"I understand, sir." The Sheriff shook his head and went back to the squad car. He glanced back at the Camaro when he reached his door, shook his head again, and got inside. Derek pulled the seatbelt across his chest and turned the key in the ignition. He drove quietly back to the boarded up gas station that was his current home, listening to the little noises Stiles was making in his sleep. He parked in what used to be the car wash so that his car wouldn't draw any more attention then grabbed Stiles and his clothes and carried the sleeping man inside.

When Stiles awoke he was laying comfortably on top of Derek with the alpha's arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and waist and Derek's jacket acting as a mini blanket. He took a deep breath and felt Derek's hand shift up to gently stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck. Stiles turned his face toward the werewolf and smiled, Derek smiled back.

"Morning," Stiles said.

"Morning," Derek replied with a small chuckle. "Although it's technically afternoon."

"Yeah well, someone kept me up last night," Stiles replied, rolling off of Derek. He spotted his clothes draped over an empty shelf and started dressing. "How did things go after I nodded off? Anything?" He asked after he pulled on his shirt.

"No," Derek replied, getting to his feet. He walked over to Stiles and slipped his fingers into the younger man's belt loops, pulling him closer. "You were the highlight of my night." Stiles smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss before pulling away to find his shoes.

After he was fully dressed he stood in front of the counter and surveyed his surroundings. It still looked more or less like every gas station convenience store, with all the familiar fixtures. The shelves were mostly empty with only a few items here and there that Derek or his pack had set there. In one corner was a grungy looking mattress on which they'd been sleeping and behind the counter was a large duffle bag full of Derek's clothes. Stiles figured it wasn't any worse than any of the other places Derek had lived.

"I should probably get home, Dad might be worried," Stiles said, scratching the back of his head. Derek nodded. Stiles nodded back, as if he'd expected something Derek had failed to provide. He headed for the door but paused before he opened it.

"Hey Derek…" he started. Derek didn't answer, just stared at his back with a questioning look, waiting for Stiles to finish. The younger man let out a weary sigh, so much like his father. "Never mind," he finished, pushing at the door.

"Stiles?" Derek put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back and turning him slightly. Stiles turned back toward him, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

"It's nothing. Something I was gonna ask you but…" he swallowed hard and kicked his foot out slightly. "It's stupid."

"You never leave a question unasked, especially the stupid ones," Derek said teasingly.

"There are lots of questions I don't ask," Stiles said, so quietly that a normal person couldn't have heard.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, all teasing gone from his voice. But Stiles was relaxing now, the tension jumping out of his shoulders. He looked up at Derek, completely normal.

"I was just wondering where that thing might be hiding, but you don't know either. I'll have to do more research, see if I can dig up any other leads."

Derek couldn't always tell when Stiles was lying. Being the Sheriff's son had given him an ease with it that often kept his heartbeat in check. But Derek could tell he was lying now, could have even without his wolf senses. He dashed between Stiles and the door as he moved to leave again. Stiles looked surprised.

"You're lying, Stiles. Tell me what's wrong," Derek said firmly. He had his serious business look on and Stiles knew he wouldn't let it go.

"You know Scott never calls me on it when I lie to him like that," Stiles said with a resigned sigh. He took a few steps away from Derek and hoisted himself up on the counter.

"I'm not Scott," Derek replied sharply. Stiles let off a strangled laugh.

"I noticed. But I'd still rather you let this one slide."

"That's not gonna happen." Stiles nodded, his whole upper body bobbing slightly.

"I don't ask questions when the answer matters," Stiles said abruptly.

"What?" Derek asked. Stiles looked at him and Derek was struck by the honesty in his face.

"You know, the questions where the answer could change everything. Would Scott still be my friend if we'd met after he became a werewolf? Does Dad work so much because he can't stand to be around me?" He swallowed hard again. "Does anyone ever actually see me? The questions you're afraid to ask because there is no possible answer that wouldn't change everything. But at the same time you really need to ask _someone_, because you ask yourself again and again and become more and more afraid of the answers you come up with." Derek was staring at him with that searching look that made Stiles feel like he really was trying to understand him. He couldn't bear to look at that face so he looked down, found a hole in the plastic surface of the countertop and started picking at it.

"You've got a few, I think. It's one of the reasons I…" Stiles paused, shook his head. "I don't ask them though, because I think I know. Sometimes I can see it on people's faces. So I don't ask." There was silence while Derek took in everything Stiles had said and Stiles just sat, picking at the counter.

"None of those were questions for me," Derek said flatly after he had rolled everything around in his mind.

"No," Stiles answered, suddenly still. "None of those were Derek questions."

"So what did you want to ask _me_?" Derek asked. Stiles could hear in his tone that he wasn't leaving until he answered. He slid forward, off the counter, and leaned against it instead.

"More things than I'm ready to deal with right now," Stiles replied, glancing at Derek. That wasn't good enough, he could tell. "But I'll start with what happened last night."

"What about it?" Derek asked, suddenly defensive. Stiles sighed.

"What was that? Why did you… Was it just to shut me up? Because you haven't for a while and I was… convenient? What was that about?"

"What do you want it to be about?" Derek asked with the slightest edge to his voice.

"Nothing," Stiles said defeated, "Just sex, I want it to just be sex." He pushed away from the counter feeling raw and broken.

"What do you want from me, Stiles?" Derek demanded. Stiles looked up at him sharply, eyes fierce and intense and wet with tears.

"I want you to want me! I want to be more to you than the brat you're stuck with or the easy lay. I want you to tell me I matter! To tell me…"

"I love you," Derek finished. He said it flatly, almost skeptical. It wasn't a confession and they both knew it. This time Derek didn't try to stop him as he pushed past the werewolf and out the door, didn't go after him as he ran back into town, didn't move at all.

By the time Stiles got home he had managed to get his feelings under control. He wasn't quite sure why he'd let the conversation go so far, he was certain he could have rambled Derek into submission. The problem was he _needed_ Derek, needed him more than he'd needed anyone since his mother died. Even so he would never have admitted to his feelings if Derek hadn't given him a thousand little signs to indicate it would be okay, that it might actually be mutual.

His dad wasn't home when he arrived for which Stiles was actually grateful. He wasn't ready for lies and disappointed looks and questions. Stiles decided the first thing to do was shower and change because even through his sweat the smell of Derek was all over him, torturing him with his own stupidity. Afterward he made a sandwich, picked a topic at random, and began the process of numbing himself through research.

By the time Stiles had to interact with another person (Scott on the phone) he had fully put himself back together. Once Stiles had learned to fight through and hide his panic attacks he'd known he could keep any feeling hidden from anyone. Hanging around with werewolves made this process more difficult but Stiles was up to the challenge, his confrontation with Derek notwithstanding. So over the course of the following week no one noticed that Stiles was in pain. Stiles also didn't see Derek that week, which made things a little easier, even if Stiles wasn't sure it was what he wanted.

Stiles didn't even flinch when he came upstairs one day and found Derek standing in front of his open window. Usually he jumped, even after it had happened often enough for him to get used to Derek's presence. Derek knew the missing reaction was a mark of their strained relationship and he ached for the fake physical reaction that indicated levity. Stiles didn't say anything; just fell into his desk chair, angling it slightly away from Derek. His hand reached for the mouse but he didn't open any programs or start on some task.

"I'm not ready to love anyone," Derek said flatly. Stiles sighed.

"You don't have to let me down easy Derek; I'm pretty used to rejection at this point."

"I mean it Stiles, I'm not ready. The last time…" Stiles could hear the hurt in his voice, "it didn't work out well." Stiles turned toward him.

"You mean Kate?" he asked calmly. Derek nodded. Stiles nodded back. "I get that Derek, maybe not completely, but I get it. I get that you thought you loved her and that she hurt you, I get that that feeling cost you everything." Stiles stood up, approached Derek. He took his face in his hands. "But I'm not her. I've never hurt you, never let you down. I've been there for you, will _keep_ being there, no matter what. Why are you letting her ruin this?" Derek moved away from him tensely.

"I can't just jump into loving you! It isn't that easy." He stopped and looked back at Stiles from his position near the end of the bed. His eyes were sharp, angry, but questioning.

"I'm not asking you to jump. I just… You've been circling for years, is it too much to ask for you to start climbing in?"

"How?" Derek asked seriously, determination echoing in his eyes. Stiles turned and flopped across the bed, grabbing his head with both hands.

"I don't know, dating?" Stiles sighed.

"You want me to date you?" Derek asked, his tone disbelieving.

"Maybe!" Stiles shouted, rolling up into a sitting position and turning his body toward the werewolf. "I want you to give me permission to touch you, to kiss you. I want to be able to curl around you when you make that wounded face," he gestured at the window," and to hold you and tell you it's okay. I'm not asking you to love me or even necessarily admit that you care; I just want it to be okay for me to tell you _I_ care, whenever I want." They just stared at each other for a while, both trying to read the other.

"Okay," Derek said finally.

"Okay!" Stiles repeated, nodding.


	4. Couple

Stiles looked himself over in the mirror, trying to decide if he should change. He wasn't too formally dressed, jeans, a plain grey t-shirt, and his tan suit jacket. He nodded, deciding it was just dressy enough to work with. He was posing, trying to figure out how best to display his undeniable attractiveness, when his dad peered into the room. Stiles jumped, embarrassed, and fell over. His father surveyed him quietly before asking,

"Going somewhere?"

"Uh…" Stiles said, getting back to his feet. "Yeah. Got a date." Stiles shifted nervously. He hadn't figured out how to tell his dad about his new relationship.

"With Derek Hale?" the Sheriff asked casually. Stiles gaped at him.

"How did you know that? Nobody… I didn't even tell Scott." His dad gave him his 'I'm the Sheriff' look. "Yes, with Derek Hale. Let's hear it," Stiles said, gesturing for his father to bring on the lecture.

"You're an adult; you can make your own decisions about who to date. Just make sure you're careful." He stepped into the room to give Stiles a hug. "Have fun tonight." The Sheriff headed back out of the room but paused when he reached the doorway.

"And Stiles," he shot back.

"Yeah Dad?"

"No more sex in cars." And without another word he left to start his shift. Stiles gaped after him, not moving till the doorbell rang. He raced downstairs to open the door and beamed at the man on the porch. Derek was dressed to match Stiles, almost as if they'd planned it, in dark blue jeans, a black shirt, and a black suit jacket. The werewolf looked extremely uncomfortable standing at the door.

"Do I need to check in with your dad or…" he asked.

"Nope, he's working. You've got me all to yourself tonight," Stiles answered. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Derek, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Derek tensed and hesitated before returning the embrace and deepening the kiss.

Tonight was their first official date but they'd spent time together several times since Derek had agreed to try. Every time it was Stiles who initiated contact. Derek would always hesitate, always falter, but then he would reciprocate warmly. It seemed strange to Stiles, the first few times, that Derek could jump into sex without a second thought but had trouble with a hug. But Stiles understood. For Derek sex was meaningless, a way to blow off steam, enjoy himself, and wipe out the memory of the first time. Hugs, and everything else Stiles did, were intimate.

Stiles leaned into Derek, smiling and content. Derek let him stay, enjoying the embrace even as it scared him. It wasn't just what happened with Kate that made this difficult; everyone Derek had ever loved had died. And Stiles was breakable.

"We should get going," Derek said eventually. "We won't have time to eat before the movie."

"I could live with that," Stiles said contently. Derek huffed.

"And fill up on candy and popcorn at the theater, I don't think so." He pulled Stiles around into a sort of side hug and leaned forward to pull the front door shut.

"Spoil sport," Stiles said, allowing Derek to lead him to the car. They drove to the local steakhouse, not too fancy but nicer than going to McDonald's. Stiles tried not to get too jealous when the hostess smiled at Derek and the waitress was so busy admiring him that she almost forgot to get Stiles' drink order. He tried not to feel inadequate when Derek smiled back at them, it helped that the smile was fake. He talked incessantly, pausing only so that the waitress could take their orders. Derek commented every once in a while but mostly just listened as Stiles wound through topic after topic. Finally, when their food arrived, Stiles stopped. Rather than plunge into his food he seemed to consider Derek.

"Are we doing okay? Are you okay?" Stiles asked.

"I'm fine," Derek answered, cutting into his steak.

"You're not thinking of, like, running away?" Stiles persisted.

"Are you?" Derek returned. Stiles gave him a shocked look.

"I'm the one that wanted this, remember? I'm just trying to make sure you're not freaking out or anything."

"Stiles, I'm fine." The younger man breathed a sigh of relief and began eating, a task which only mildly hampered his talking. After the meal he tried not to feel offended when the waitress asked if they needed separate checks. Stiles made a grab for the check when she brought it but Derek, alpha werewolf extraordinaire, had retrieved it in the blink of an eye.

"I could get it," Stiles offered, holding out his hand.

"I've got it," Derek replied smoothly.

"But you don't even have a job, how do you pay for anything?" Derek ignored him, slipping a credit card into the plastic sleeve and penning in the gratuity. Stiles couldn't help but be offended when he caught a glimpse of the phone number scribbled in at the bottom of the guest receipt, a fact which he made clear by complaining all the way to the theater.

"I'm paying for the tickets," Stiles declared when they stepped into line at the ticket booth.

"No you're not," Derek replied calmly.

"Come on, I'm not a girl!" Stiles said. His heart skipped a beat when Derek gave him a quick once over.

"I'm aware of that," he said with a smile.

"At least let me pay for the popcorn," Stiles whined.

"No."

Neither of them was very hungry, having just eaten dinner, so Stiles settled for Twizlers and a soda while Derek got nothing. Stiles only pouted a little when Derek paid anyway. Derek went straight for the seats at the very back of the theater and slid quietly into the first one in the row. Stiles followed without question and sat beside him. He got a small thrill when he saw the armrest between them had been left up by previous occupants. Derek didn't make a move to change it and Stiles quietly made plans to casually lean over later and initiate half-assed cuddling.

Stiles watched the previews animatedly, commenting on each as he saw fit while Derek just watched him. When the movie started Stiles went in for his lean cuddle maneuver, missed, and practically fell into Derek's lap. He pulled himself back up into his chair gracelessly, deciding just to let it go. After a while Derek's arm slipped around him and pulled him close to his side, leaving Stiles with a big grin. Stiles made a few comments throughout the film, stifling the worst of it by chewing on his Twizlers. He was mildly distracted when Derek stole his drink. Overall it was a good date.

When they drove up to Stiles' house Derek got out and walked him to the door. Stiles was remarking to himself how it was downright gentlemanly when Derek pushed him gently against the door and kissed him with all the fervor of a love-struck teenager. Stiles wasn't complaining. On the contrary, he kept pulling Derek back in for more whenever the werewolf stopped for breath. They didn't stop until Derek's hand slid under Stiles' shirt and Stiles reluctantly pushed him away.

"I can't," Stiles said with a strangled whine. "This can't be about that." He watched Derek's expression, fighting the urge to pull him back in for more. "It won't work if it's just sex," he finished, trying to convince himself as much as Derek. Derek nodded and took a step back.

"Good night Stiles," he said before returning to the Camaro. Stiles bumped his head against the door, feeling certain he'd screwed up everything.

"Stiles!" Derek called over his car. Stiles jumped a little and looked at him eagerly. "Let me know when you want to do this again." Stiles answered with a sort of salute and Derek got in the car and drove away. Stiles went inside and collapsed on his bed, radiating pure joy.

"Why do you keep smelling like Derek?" Scott asked one day a few weeks later. Stiles hadn't told him yet. The conversation was inevitable but that didn't make it any easier.

"Because we're dating?" Stiles said nonchalantly. Scott gaped at him.

"Derek?" he asked incredulously.

"What, like Derek couldn't possibly like _me_?"

"You can't date Derek!" Stiles drew back, affronted.

"Why not?"

"Because it's _Derek_!" Scott said, as if that settled the matter.

"That's kinda the point," Stiles returned.

"He's a jerk!" Stiles sighed.

"No he's not, you just have to…"

"He's a bad guy," Scott interrupted. Stiles just stared at him a moment, chewing his bottom lip in frustration.

"You know in Harry Potter how like, every book Harry keeps saying 'Snape is evil, he's trying to kill me' and then in every book it turns out Snape's been busting his ass trying to keep Harry alive? You know how Harry never learns his lesson and it makes you want to strangle him because obviously Snape isn't evil and how can he not see that?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah?" Stiles gave him a 'well there you go' look. "This isn't like that!"

"Oh my god," Stiles yelled, looking around as if trying to find the common sense in the room, "Yes it is! This is just like that. Derek may not always make the best choices but he's _trying_ to do good."

"I'm your best friend; shouldn't you at least care what I think about this?" Scott said, trying a different approach. Stiles looked at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"Did you?" Stiles asked angrily.

"What?" Scott asked stupidly.

"When you first started dating Allison did you care what I thought? When I told you not to go to the party because it was a full moon and you might _kill_ her, did you care? When I told you playing lacrosse to impress her was dangerous did you care? When there was a psycho killer alpha murdering about town and Derek and I _both_ said you should forget about Allison and concentrate on getting stronger, _did you care_? You never once listened to me back then, so no, I don't feel obligated to care about your opinion on this."

"That was different!" Scott objected.

"How?"

"Because I _love_ Allison!" Stiles had never wanted to punch Scott more.

"I…" he started but was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He started pacing as he answered. "Hey, Derek!" he said with a forced cheerfulness.

"Are you all right?" Derek asked, picking up on his tone.

"I'm fine, just telling Scott about my new boyfriend." Scott made a face, Stiles made one back.

"How's that going?" Stiles stopped pacing and sighed.

"About as well as you'd expect." Derek didn't say anything and Stiles guessed he was nodding on the other end of the phone.

"I was wondering what you wanted to do tomorrow night?" Derek asked after a moment.

"Uh, I don't know," Stiles replied, running his free hand over his head. "We could go bowling, I guess. Do you bowl?"

"We'll double!" Scott interjected.

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"It's fine, they can meet us there at 8," Derek said, wolf hearing having caught Scott's suggestion.

"This is a bad idea," Stiles said flatly, not looking at Scott.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30," Derek said, ignoring the previous comment. Stiles sighed again.

"Okay, see you then."

"I'll see you tomorrow." Stiles hung up and turned back to Scott who was wearing the smuggest smile Stiles had ever seen.

"I hate you," Stiles said flatly, causing Scott to grin more.

Stiles could tell the moment they arrived at the bowling alley that this was going to be a disaster. Scott and Derek immediately began exchanging glares and even Allison seemed to feel awkward. Stiles tried for all of five minutes to ease the tension before slumping in his seat in defeat. There was an uncomfortable distance between him and Derek brought sharply into focus by how sickeningly sweet Scott and Allison were whenever Derek stood up to bowl. Stiles' frustration was only compounded by the fact that he was wildly outclassed by his three companions and with each frame fell farther and farther behind.

By the time Stiles finally managed to get a strike he'd had enough. He marched straight back to Derek, flopped onto his lap, and kissed the daylights out of him, Scott be damned.

"That was a nice strike," Derek said, quiet and playful, when Stiles eventually pulled away.

"Yeah it was!" Stiles said proudly, drawing a friendly chuckle from his date. He jumped a little when Derek placed his hands firmly under Stiles' ass and picked him up. He deposited Stiles back in the seat and went to bowl. Scott gaped at his best friend in disbelief but Stiles just looked back at him with the biggest, goofiest grin he'd ever possessed.

It marked a shift in the evening. Now Derek casually threw an arm around him whenever they were both sitting. He kissed Stiles' forehead whenever Stiles did well and whispered pointers in his ear when he botched a shot. Stiles realized Derek must have been waiting for him to make the first move in front of Scott, letting him decide what he was comfortable with. Scott, for his part, looked like he'd smelled sour milk. Stiles didn't care, he'd get used to it.

It was only a few days after bowling that Chris Argent cornered Stiles at the store. He wasn't really surprised but he hadn't considered that going on a double date with Allison would mean announcing their relationship to the Argent clan.

"I understand you're dating Derek Hale," Argent said plainly.

"Nothing gets past you," Stiles replied sarcastically, pretending not to care about the hunter's presence as he eyed the goods on the nearest shelf. The other man played along, picking up a box and looking over the nutritional guide.

"Don't you think that's a bit dangerous for someone like you?" Stiles had his hand halfway to an item when the question was posed. He shifted, pushing against the shelf instead, bracing himself.

"I may not be super strong or fast and maybe I don't heal quickly, but I've been through a lot of tough situations and I'm still here," Stiles said firmly. Argent put the box down on the shelf and looked at Stiles.

"You've been lucky." Stiles clenched and unclenched his fist, suddenly filled with anger.

"It's not luck," he said coldly, turning to face the hunter as well. "It's Derek." Argent cocked his head slightly, inviting Stiles to elaborate. "I get in over my head all the time, but I survive because Derek is there to save me, to protect me, to keep me safe. He's there for me whenever I need him. _Always_." Argent looked as if he was about to speak but Stiles wouldn't have it.

"All due respect Mr. Argent, but aside from the very beginning when I didn't really know him, I've never been afraid of Derek, whereas you still scare the hell out of me. You might consider that it wasn't a werewolf that started the psycho killing spree in Beacon Hills, it was a hunter. So for all your high minded ideals about keeping an eye on the monsters, I think you've overlooked the one you should be most worried about."

They stared each other down for several minutes. Then Argent nodded and walked away. Stiles' heart was beating a mile a minute. He leaned slightly against the shelf and decided shopping could wait. Stiles slipped his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed the number.

"Hello?" came the familiar voice. Stiles relaxed a bit just hearing it.

"Can you…" his voice cracked, "Can you meet me at my house?"

"What's wrong?"

"I just… need you," Stiles said wearily.

"I'll be there." They both hung up and Stiles made his way to the front of the store and into his recently repaired jeep.

Derek was waiting for him when he got home, leaning against the shiny black car with an obvious tension. He was beside Stiles the moment he was out of the jeep, looking him over with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finding nothing but a still rapid heartbeat.

"I'm fine," Stiles answered. "Ran into Chris Argent," he added, aiming for flippancy. Every inch of Derek stiffened in anger. "It's fine, it's fine!" Stiles said quickly. "Nothing happened. Just… lecturing the scary werewolf hunter made me really need a cuddle. Is that stupid?"

"No," Derek said roughly, obviously trying to calm down for Stiles' sake.

They went inside quietly and headed into the living room. Stiles was surprised and relieved when Derek pulled him onto the couch without further prompting. He held him tightly and just breathed in his scent for a while, letting Stiles' heartbeat get back to normal, letting his own fury subside.

"Tell me," Derek said eventually, much calmer than Stiles had expected. So he told him. Not just what had happened but everything, how he had felt standing there, the way Argent implying Derek was dangerous had angered him and why, how everything he'd said was true and here Derek was proving it. Everything. And when he was done he cried, not really knowing why but not caring. Derek just held him and listened until Stiles fell asleep.

Hours later when the Sheriff got home they were still there, with Stiles asleep and Derek just holding him. Mr. Stilinski nodded at Derek, who acknowledged him with his eyes and the slightest tilt of his head. It was all the communication the two of them needed to exchange. This was all either of them really wanted; Stiles, safe, happy, and content.


	5. Commitment

"So? What do you think?" Stiles asked happily, spreading his arms and gesturing around the empty apartment. It was the nicest one they'd looked at. It didn't matter that it would be a struggle to afford. Derek had already vetoed every apartment more reasonably in his price range. "Even has all the amenities: pool, laundry, weight room. Pretty good, right?"

"No," Derek said flatly, not even bothering to make a full inspection. The leasing agent took a step forward, ready to make a sales pitch she was certain no one could resist. Stiles waved her off and shook his head. She complied hesitantly.

"What's wrong with this one?" Stiles asked with an exasperated sigh. Derek just stared at him angrily. Stiles threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine." They returned to the leasing office in strained silence and retrieved the IDs they'd handed over before viewing the apartment. Stiles shook the agent's hand politely.

"Thanks for letting us see it. I'd say I'll keep it under consideration but…" he shot Derek a dirty look, "I won't." The woman smiled and nodded awkwardly. The two men returned to Stiles' jeep in silence.

Stiles kept glancing at Derek and sighing as he drove them back to the empty gas station. They sat in silence for a while after Stiles shifted into park. Finally Stiles spoke up,

"Would you just tell me what I should be looking for? I mean I feel like there is no requirement that hasn't been met by a plethora of apartments but obviously you do so… what am I missing?" Derek didn't answer, just sat in the passenger seat looking pissed. Stiles sighed, knowing nothing more was forthcoming. "Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow?" Derek looked at him, eyes gentler now, and nodded. "Okay," Stiles said, nodding as well. Derek got out of the car and headed into his long-term hideout. Stiles watched him go feeling exhausted. This apartment hunting had put a strain on their already strained relationship and he was beginning to feel like he was losing Derek.

They'd been dating for a little over a year now. Derek had gotten used to all the physical ways Stiles showed affection, sometimes even initiating them himself, but there was an emotional intimacy they still lacked. Any time they got too close Derek would back off or pick a fight. Derek spent a fair amount of time at the Stilinski house and even got along with Stiles' dad fairly well, but Derek had never brought him around the pack just to be there and it often made Stiles feel unwanted. Stiles knew Derek was trying but he was beginning to think they couldn't make this work.

The following evening Derek joined the Stilinski men for a rare family dinner. The couple was tense and distant and the meal was awkward for everyone.

"So," Sheriff Stilinski said, breaking the silence, "How's apartment hunting going?" It was the wrong thing to say. The tension increased instantly.

"It would be going better if Derek didn't reject _everything_ we looked at," Stiles answered bitterly. His dad shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, studying his plate intently.

"I didn't realize you were looking at places together," he grunted. Derek stiffened, drawing Stiles' attention.

"No!" Stiles said quickly. "Not like that, no. We're not gonna… live together or anything."

"Oh," the Sheriff replied.

"Yeah, just wanted his opinion. You know, since he'll be there a lot. Probably. Maybe." Derek stared at him.

"And you didn't like any of them?" Derek shifted uncomfortably this time, staring at his plate and moving food around with his fork.

"No," he answered quietly.

"You didn't like any apartments in Beacon Hills, not as places to live, but as places to drop by for a visit?" Derek looked up at him, somewhat guarded but mostly just lost. He didn't answer. "What's really going on here, Son?" Stiles dad asked in full parenting mode. Derek flinched at the epithet. Stiles started, he'd been avoiding thinking about any deeper meaning behind Derek's hatred of the apartments.

"I just didn't think they were good enough," Derek said calmly. Sheriff Stilinski just gave him a look, calling him on the lie without uttering a word. Derek's expression hardened, he turned his head left and right as if looking for an escape, and let out a deep, annoyed breath. "I don't want to talk about this," he said warningly. They sat in silence for a while, the Sheriff and Derek warring over who would relent first and Stiles thinking up a million terrible reasons.

"Are you going to give me a proper answer?" Sheriff Stilinski asked after a while.

"Dad," Stiles started to object.

"You need to discuss this if you're going to fix the problem," his dad replied.

"There's no problem," Derek denied roughly.

"What's wrong with the apartments?"

"Dad, just drop it," Stiles said desperately.

"What's wrong with them?"

"I like it here!" Derek snapped, stunning both Stilinskis into momentary silence.

"Derek?" Stiles asked tenderly, putting a hand on his arm. Derek pulled away from him.

"I like it here with your dad, having dinner or watching T.V. together. This is a home, Stiles, a _family_! Why isn't that good enough for you?" Stiles looked at him, hurt and understanding in his face.

"Because it's not," Stiles said quietly. He gathered his courage before continuing with determination, "I like this too, all of us together, but it isn't enough. Most of the time Dad's working and it's just me, or me and you – the emotionally stunted asshole. You think when I'm here all alone looking up the complete process of _paper making_ that it feels like home and family? Because let me tell you, it doesn't.

"I want more, Derek. I want my own home and someone that loves me and a thousand kids that keep me busy all the time just loving them. I can't get all of that staying here. I have to start my own life. I _need_ to start my own life. This apartment thing is just a first step. Do you get that?" Stiles explained, searching Derek's expression. "Tell me you understand." Derek just looked at him, fury not abated in the slightest.

"I don't," he said coldly, standing. "I'm going home." He started toward the door and Stiles went after him.

"Derek wait," Stiles pleaded. Derek stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

"Good night Stiles." And he left. Stiles wanted to chase after him, to work everything out, but he couldn't seem to move. He stood there for a moment, heart breaking, before he crumpled to the floor, gasping for air as the tears came. Derek's voice echoed in his head, 'Good night' sounding painfully like 'goodbye'.

Stiles realized vaguely that he was having a panic attack but he couldn't find the strength to fight it. He felt his father's arms close around him and his voice whispering soothingly. It helped; his breath came a little easier. Stiles clung desperately to his father.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I didn't mean it. This is enough; you're enough. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," his dad replied, kissing the top of his head. "I understand."

Stiles didn't get an apartment in the end. He still wanted to start his own life and his own family, but the fight with Derek had halted his resolve. Derek didn't come by anymore or answer Stiles' phone calls and when Stiles broke down and tried to find him at his place Derek's things were gone. There was one awkward afternoon where they ran into each other at a gas station. Derek stood beside his Camaro pumping his gas and looking murderous as Stiles climbed out of the jeep. Stiles let him have his space, not waving or smiling, just pumping his own gas. Two perfect strangers to anyone who looked. Stiles jumped slightly when he heard the pump click on Derek's side. It only ached a little when he drove away.

Two months they didn't say a word to each other. Then one day there was an insistent knocking at the front door and Stiles opened it to find Derek standing on the porch.

"Derek," Stiles sighed.

"Stiles," Derek replied, the slightest hint of a question in his tone.

"Come in," Stiles answered, moving so that Derek could step past him. Stiles lead him into the living room. The younger man flopped onto the couch. He had no idea what was coming but he was going to be comfortable when it came. Derek stood at the opposite end of the sofa looking more nervous and awkward than Stiles would have believed possible. He didn't say anything.

"As big an improvement acknowledging each other is, I'm gonna need a little dialogue Derek. You didn't exactly leave on a clear note you know." Derek looked at him and nodded but still didn't say anything. After a while Stiles sighed and gestured for Derek to join him on the couch. Derek barely hesitated before sinking down next to him. Stiles was surprised when the werewolf pulled him against his chest. Derek breathed Stiles in deeply.

"What was it about Derek? Why were we fighting, because I really don't know?"

"I don't want you to get an apartment," Derek answered.

"Yeah, I got that much. Is that it? Is that really the only reason you were mad at me?"

"I don't like apartments. Laura and I had one in New York. They're crowded, impersonal, and loud. And they smell from too many people passing through."

"Werewolf problems," Stiles sighed.

"And I don't want you to live alone. I don't think you can handle it. It isn't like living here when your dad isn't home. It still feels like family here even when no one else is around, but an apartment won't. You'd be alone Stiles, completely."

"Okay, those are valid reasons for being anti-apartment. But I have reasons too, reasons I could have explained better if you had just talked to me. But you didn't, Derek, you just… left me."

"It was easier than trying to talk about my feelings, easier than thinking about what was really bothering me. You push me Stiles. You're never satisfied with what I give you."

"That's not true. It was Dad that wouldn't let it go; I was all for pretending things were fine."

"For how long?" Derek asked.

"For… a while… maybe," Stiles answered unconvincingly.

"And then you would have pushed me, just like your dad did. So I left, I went somewhere you wouldn't find me."

"But you're here now right? So… what made you come back?" Derek let out a long, deep sigh and Stiles wondered if he really _was_ pushing Derek. He started to sit up, an apology on his lips, but Derek pulled him back firmly, breathing him in again.

"I missed you," Derek said after a pause. His tone was dark and quiet and it struck Stiles that he didn't want to admit it. Stiles swallowed hard, it was an enormous admission for Derek.

"I missed you too," Stiles replied, just as quietly, trying to encourage Derek to continue without actually asking for more. Derek took a deep breath. He pulled one arm from around Stiles and shifted slightly, pulling something from his jacket pocket.

"I made a decision," Derek said calmly but Stiles, lying against his chest, felt the increase in his heartbeat. The werewolf was holding a small silver key in front of him; he took it hesitantly.

"The key to my new apartment?" Stiles asked, uncertain.

"To _our_ new house," Derek answered. "So I can't run away anymore."

Stiles was dumbstruck. This was so much more than anything Derek had ever done. The werewolf did fine responding to things Stiles initiated, was incredibly affectionate when he lost himself in the moment, but he was cold when he had to think about his feelings. He was afraid of being committed to anyone, even his pack, and so backed off whenever he became aware of how close others were getting.

But he had thought about this. For two months Derek had thought about what Stiles wanted from life and what he himself wanted from Stiles. And he'd decided to move forward with the younger man, to buy a house, to live together. He'd decided to commit.

"It's two bedrooms," Derek said. One for each of them, Stiles understood. But it was enough; it was more than enough. Stiles turned in Derek's arms, burying his face in the older man's shoulder and crying because he was so happy. He didn't say 'I love you' even though he felt it. He knew Derek wasn't there yet, but for the first time he knew Derek would get there, given enough time.


	6. Cohabitation

When Sheriff Stilinski got home from his late shift Stiles was standing at the door waiting for him awkwardly.

"I need to talk to you," Stiles said.

"Can it wait? It's been a long night and I'm bushed," his father replied. He wasn't being dismissive, Stiles knew, he really was just tired. Stiles shook his head, he wanted to let his dad get some rest, but he knew that not having this conversation now might mean not having it for a week or more. His dad let out a weary sigh and moved to sit at the kitchen table. Stiles sat across from him, bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the table nervously. After a minute of silence the Sheriff shifted and gave his son a look asking him to speak. Stiles breathed deeply and pulled the key out of his pocket, placing it on the table between them.

"A key?"

"The key," Stiles answered, "to the house Derek wants me to share with him." The Sheriff looked at him, surprise written on his face.

"He wants you to move in with him? I thought," he paused uncertainly, "I thought you two broke up?" Stiles slouched back in his chair, staring at his own hands on the table.

"Not exactly. We just, I dunno, took some time."

"You mean _he_ took some time," the Sheriff replied.

"Yes, okay, _he_ took some time. Does it matter? We're okay now," Stiles answered agitatedly.

"Is he going to cut and run every time you have a problem?"

"He's working on it," Stiles said defensively. He sighed, letting some of the tension out. "This is part of it, living together, laying down roots. He's trying Dad." His father nodded.

"And this is what you want?" Stiles picked the key back up, shifting it between his fingers.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Am I… Do you think this is a bad idea?" The Sheriff let out a groaning sigh, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair.

"I've had my doubts about Derek Hale," he began, "Especially after you told me everything." Stiles nodded. "But he's always looked out for you, so if this is really what you want, you should go for it." Stiles looked up at him, a smile starting at the corners of his mouth. "That doesn't mean I won't give him a talking to when I see him, though." Stiles moved around the table and his father stood to meet him. They embraced each other warmly before going to bed.

Stiles stood in the boxed up wasteland that had once been his room. He'd started packing almost as soon as he'd gotten the go ahead from his dad. After a few solid days of work he'd managed to get everything squared away. He felt a small pang of sadness and apprehension as he surveyed the empty feeling room.

"Got everything ready?" his dad asked, leaning into the room from the doorway. "Your…_ pack_ is here." Stiles smiled at the way he stumbled over the word 'pack', smiled wider at the idea that it was _his_ pack. Derek appeared in the doorway behind the Sheriff as if to underscore the statement. A moment later Stiles heard the rest of the pack trudging up the stairs.

They'd decided not to get a moving truck. There were plenty of hands and vehicles to move Stiles from one house in Beacon Hills to another without much fuss. They'd shove the furniture into Stiles' jeep and Boyd's SUV and cram the boxes into everyone else's cars.

It all went pretty smoothly really, much smoother than Stiles had honestly expected. Werewolves were super strong and could move everything with an ease that Stiles found offensive, making him and his father look sad and pathetic. Stiles managed to prevent Scott from asking about getting Allison to help more than once. The pack was more or less okay with her but Derek bristled at the idea of telling the Argents where he lived, even if it was inevitable. Boyd was stoic as usual, Erica was her normal bitingly snarky self, Isaac was strangely quiet and refused to look at Stiles. Derek was the alpha.

When they got to the house Stiles took a moment to inspect it, outside and in. He'd been so excited about the prospect of moving in with Derek that he hadn't made time to check it out first. Standing in the living room he had to admit he was impressed. Isaac nudged past him roughly and deposited a box in his bedroom none too gently.

"Hey, careful!" Stiles shouted, rushing to pet the box. The werewolf's eyes flashed gold dangerously as he turned edgily away from Stiles. "God, what is your problem?" Stiles called after him as he retreated outside. Erica grinned at Stiles as she came into the room.

"Don't mind him," She said as she set down a box. "He's just mad because he can't come crawling to Daddy Derek whenever he has a nightmare anymore." She flashed him her vicious, taunting smile on her way out. Stiles just stared after her, going over the implications in her quip while Derek and Boyd brought in boxes.

When everything had been brought in and stacked in Stiles new bedroom the rest of the werewolves took off, leaving Derek and the Stilinskis to stand in the empty living room.

"You're going to need some furniture," the Sheriff said, glancing around. "And kitchenware. And linens." He sighed heavily.

"So we'll go shopping tomorrow, buy the essentials. Since I don't have to pay a deposit or rent I've got some money we can use. It'll be great," Stiles replied, not even attempting to mask his excitement. His dad pat him on the shoulder, squeezed, and pulled him into a hug.

"You take care," he said before pulling away. "And call me if you need anything. I mean it." Then he left. Stiles watched him go before whipping around to face Derek with a huge smile.

"Our house," Stiles said excitedly, gesturing widely around him.

"I'm glad you like it," Derek replied with a small smile, pulling Stiles closer. "No regrets?" Stiles glanced about as if looking for something.

"Kinda regretting not having Boyd put the bet together." Derek smiled at him with a predatory gleam.

"Good thing you didn't, we'd never get anything done," he said, enjoying the way Stiles' heartbeat quickened in response.

"Right then," Stiles said, pulling away and straightening his hoodie, "Let's get to work."

Getting to work meant Derek assembled furniture while Stiles started unpacking. The younger man noted ruefully that Derek was saving the bed for last. He attempted to alter this plan by nonchalantly setting a bottle of lube on the window sill and waggling his eyebrows suggestively, but it was a no go. By the time the bed was finally assembled they were both so worn out that Stiles had abandoned all thoughts of christening the house. He settled for cuddling closely together on the bed.

"Hey Derek?" Stiles began when a thought wouldn't leave him alone.

"Mmm?" Derek hummed contently, already half asleep.

"Did Isaac show up at your old place a lot?"

"Yeah," Derek answered. He shifted slightly, waking himself up as he sensed it wasn't an idle question.

"What about the rest of the pack?" Derek propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over Stiles, a look of confusion in his eyes.

"They came by sometimes."

"Just showed up? Wherever you were living?"

"They won't come here, Stiles, not without permission," Derek said calmly.

"I know, but is that really okay? I mean you're their alpha, what if they need you?"

"Then they'll call," Derek replied. He had that searching look that told Stiles he wanted to understand. Stiles sighed and turned so that he could face Derek properly.

"I don't really understand the whole pack dynamic, you've always sort of kept all of that separate from me and even Scott doesn't talk about it, but I get the feeling Isaac wasn't entirely okay with this."

"He'll get used to it," Derek said defensively.

"Calm down," Stiles said, kissing the werewolf to ease the tension. "I'm not trying to start a fight or complain about your wolfiness. I just need to know what you and the pack need. I need you to let me be a part of this instead of… in the way." Derek looked at him for a moment with an unreadable expression before sliding out of the bed to pace.

"It's complicated," he said roughly. "Normally a pack would live together but that wasn't possible the way things started out. And because I didn't want to settle somewhere where someone could…" he didn't finish, he didn't need to. "I just let them know where I was staying and let them come when they wanted. But now I'm living here, with you. It doesn't really matter much because Erica and Boyd are so independent and Scott's too hung up on Allison to care, but Isaac _needs_ someone to follow." Derek looked at Stiles, who was now sitting on the bed, his eyes asking if he needed to go on.

"What about you?" Stiles asked patiently.

"I…" Derek began angrily. He took a deep breath, "I need to take care of my pack," he said firmly. "But I also need to take care of you, like this." Derek pointed to the floor and Stiles understood he meant the house and living together.

"Okay," Stiles said, getting to his feet and snaking his arms around Derek's waist. "What if we gave the pack keys? Then they could still come by whenever they wanted and we can still lock the door against dangerous prowlers." Derek looked at him gently, almost in awe.

"We don't have to do that. You don't have to make room for my pack." Stiles laid his forehead on Derek's shoulder, tired and uncertain.

"Yes I do. I have to make room for them, _have_ to make room," Stiles paused, swallowing a knot of fear, "for _our_ pack." He closed his eyes, hoping he hadn't pushed too far, praying that he hadn't overstepped the delicate boundaries of this new stage in their relationship.

Derek put an unsteady hand on his cheek, pulling Stiles' face up to look at him. Stiles was overwhelmed by the fire and the need in the deeply red eyes. Derek kissed him with a bruising passion. He tugged at the zipper on Stiles' hoodie with one hand while pulling Stiles closer with the other. Stiles could feel Derek's erection pressing into him. He moaned as his body reacted to Derek's fervent desire.

Stiles let Derek tug his hoodie off roughly and then both their hands were under the other's shirt, feeling the heat of skin and pulling it closer. In an unspoken agreement they both paused to remove the obstructing material before pressing their bare torsos together.

Stiles felt like he was on fire. He knew this wasn't like the first time, a sudden explosion of mutual want. This was the inevitable conclusion to the slow burn of need; a need that Derek had been building for ten years and which Stiles had filled. He didn't just want Derek, he wanted his pack, and it was driving the alpha crazy.

Derek's hand slid down to Stiles' hip, fingers tugging gently at the waistband. He was asking permission. In answer Stiles forced some space between their hips and fumbled at the button on Derek's jeans. Stiles growled in frustration when Derek had swiftly unfastened his pants and Stiles couldn't get past the button. He tugged roughly and felt the thread snap but neither of them cared as they slid out of the last of their clothing.

Derek picked Stiles up easily and settled them both on the small bed, Stiles pinned beneath the werewolf, their erections pressed firmly together, their lips locked. And then Derek shifted, releasing Stiles' lips and moving down his neck, across his collar bone, stopping to lick and nip at one nipple and then the other. Stiles was making the most obscene noises and trying not to thrust his hips.

He was moving down again, hot breath ghosting over Stiles' penis. Stiles barely managed to gasp out his name before Derek's mouth was on him, hot and wet, sucking and licking and making Stiles feel amazing. He came quickly from the sensation and Derek swallowed his semen eagerly. The alpha didn't stop working Stiles' cock with his mouth until he was fully hard again and on the verge of a second orgasm. Stiles whimpered slightly when Derek pulled away.

Derek snatched the lube off of the window sill and poured it over his fingers. He hunched over Stiles, kissing him while he slid one digit inside the younger man, quickly followed by a second and third. And then the fingers were gone and Derek was sliding into him. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled him close, needing to feel the man's heat on top of him even as he felt it inside.

Derek slid a hand between them, gripping Stiles firmly as he approached climax. Stiles moaned loudly when Derek bit him hard as he came inside the younger man, sending Stiles over the edge as well. After a moment Derek pulled out, shifting so that he could curl around his partner's side. He kissed gently at the wound his teeth had left in the space where Stiles' neck met his shoulder.

"Can we do that again tomorrow?" Stiles asked in awe once his pulse had begun to settle. "All day? Every day? Until I die of fatigue? Because that was amazing. I mean the first time was awesome, don't get me wrong, but that? That was unbeliev…"

"I love you," Derek said, interrupting anything Stiles might have been about to say. Stiles shifted to look at him, searching Derek's face and finding nothing but sincerity.

"I love you too," Stiles replied. They kissed, tired but passionate, then curled up closely and fell asleep together.

Author's Note:

1) I realize that in chapter 4 Scott seems sort of antagonistic toward Derek and in this chapter he's in his pack. This is mostly because chapter 4 was written before 204 Frenemy aired and I was betting on him not joining Derek ever, whereas chapter 6 was written after that. However I think Scott will remain antagonistic within the pack what with his 'we'll do it my way' attitude.

2) I am also aware that some of you might be bothered by the absence of both Jackson and Lydia. As of right now neither of them are werewolves and I'm making additional bets that they never will be, so they're not included here.

3) I have a rough estimate of 4-6 more chapters at this point, but no promises.


	7. Cohesion

Stiles tugged at a shopping cart once they'd entered the store. The end cart shook rebelliously and didn't budge. Stiles pulled harder to no effect. Derek watched the struggle for a moment before sweeping Stiles aside and jerking the cart roughly away from the others.

"I would have gotten it," Stiles objected. Derek nodded at him skeptically and Stiles returned the gesture with an exaggerated sneer. "All right, you start on the shopping and I'll get the keys." He handed Derek a folded piece of notebook paper. Derek unfolded it and eyed the first few items – shower curtains, towels, bath mat, bathroom set…

"Shouldn't we get these things together?" Derek asked. Stiles pulled his head back in a gesture of surprise and incredulity then leaned heavily over Derek's shoulder to read the list.

"Nah, you'll be fine," Stiles answered, clapping Derek on the back. He started off to the hardware section but didn't get too far before Derek called after him,

"What if you don't like what I pick?" Stiles turned around, walking backwards.

"I like you, don't I? Just pick some! And nothing black, it's depressing!" he shouted before stumbling, turning, and disappearing behind shelves. Derek scowled darkly, let out a huff, and began wheeling the cart toward house wares.

Stiles smiled brightly as he pulled his key from his pocket and slapped it down on the counter of the key making stations.

"I need five copies of this key please," he said, sliding it toward the man working there. The employee looked at him bored.

"You know the point of a lock is to keep people out, right?" the guy said snottily.

"Hah, hah," Stiles replied sarcastically. "I have a big family dumbass, make the keys." The man shot him a dirty look and started making the copies. Stiles was so happy to receive them that he forgot to stay mad at the worker and smiled widely as he turned to look for Derek.

He found him staring at shower curtains with a perplexed expression and fought back a laugh. He threw an arm around Derek's shoulders as he leaned in to pick up a curtain with a forest pattern the werewolf had obviously been eyeing. Derek flinched, so absorbed in the decision he hadn't noticed Stiles approaching.

"A little piece of home, huh?" Stiles said, grabbing a clear plastic curtain as well and tossing both into the cart. Derek looked at him as if he'd expected Stiles to argue the decision. Stiles just spun on his heel to look at the assortment of soap dispensers, toothbrush holders, and various other bathroom sundries on the opposite shelf. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind and nuzzled at his neck, breathing deeply. Stiles leaned back into him for a moment.

"As much as I love the cuddling and sniffing thing, I'd really like your help shopping right now," Stiles said reluctantly. Derek nipped playfully at his neck before pulling away. He grabbed a set of matching items that maintained the forest theme. Derek arched an eyebrow at Stiles and set the objects in the basket when the younger man nodded.

They continued in that fashion, picking up items and agreeing on what they both liked before putting them in the cart. There were only a few hang ups where they struggled to find common ground. Soon the basket was filled with household items they didn't have already that they would definitely need soon.

"That's everything," Derek said finally, looking over the list one more time to be sure.

"We'll have to come back and get groceries later," Stiles said, surveying the full cart. He fidgeted slightly. "Uh, did you want to pick up some condoms while we're here?" he asked with an obvious nervousness. Derek looked at him, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Because you seemed to be out."

"I have some," Derek said, crowding Stiles against the cart.

"Really? You, uh, didn't have one last night."

"They're in my glove box. I wasn't about to go get one," he growled seductively.

"Very responsible of you," Stiles breathed.

"I'm clean," Derek mumbled before kissing Stiles deeply. The younger man jumped and pushed him away when he felt Derek's full weight pressing against him.

"No you're not! You are a dirty, dirty man! We're in a store for god's sake!" Stiles looked around frantically. He waved hesitantly at a scandalized looking woman. "Lech," Stiles shot at Derek as he hunched his shoulders and started toward the checkouts. Derek chuckled lightly and pushed the cart after him.

The whole pack stood in their living room a while later. They all looked at least mildly put upon and half of them seemed ready to bolt at the first opportunity.

"Why are we here? Is something wrong?" Scott asked. Stiles beamed at him, the perfect image of a kid in a candy store.

"Nothing's wrong," Derek said calmly. "Stiles has something he wants to give you." Stiles pulled out the first key and handed it to Boyd.

"One for you," Stiles said gleefully. Boyd took the key with a calm smile. Stiles moved on to Erica. "One for you." She curled her fingers around the key, her ring and pinky fingers sliding lightly across Stiles' fingers.

"Is this an invitation to watch?" she asked in her seductive and sarcastic tone. Stiles' jaw dropped.

"Be good," Derek said calmly, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. Stiles closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and moved on to Isaac. He held up the third key, smiling brightly.

"For you." Isaac gave him a sharp, discerning look, nodded, and took the key silently. Stiles moved to Scott. He brandished the key like a sword. "You, guard this key with your life. Do not ever, _ever_ leave it lying around. _Especially_ when the Argents are within a hundred miles of its location. If I ever come home to find Chris Argent in my living room I will kill you. And Derek," he said, gesturing spastically at the alpha, "will _eat_ your corpse." Derek gave Scott a cold stare as if to enforce the idea.

"Okay, okay. I'll be careful!" Scott replied defensively. He pulled the key from Stiles' fingers while Stiles stared him down. The last key was for Stiles' father, he would drop it off when he went for a visit.

"You can all come over whenever you want but, uh, I can't promise we won't be occupied," Stiles said. Scott made a face and Erica smirked. "All right, we have furniture to buy. Isaac, you're coming with. Anyone else who wants to join us is welcome."

"Why me?" Isaac asked defensively.

"Because you're probably going to sleep on the couch the most so you get to pick it out," Stiles answered matter-of-factly. They all wandered out of the house and Derek locked it behind them. Stiles was pulling out the keys to the jeep when Erica clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll take Boyd's, more room," she said. Stiles looked at Boyd who nodded quietly and climbed into the SUV. Stiles was a little sad to see Derek take shotgun, sadder when he was pushed into the middle between Isaac and Erica.

"What about Scott?" Stiles asked, noticing his best friend was the only one missing. Isaac shrugged and Erica tossed her head in the direction Scott was headed. "Hey Scott!" Stiles called.

"I'm good man!" Scott called back.

"He just doesn't want to shop for Derek's bed," Erica said casually.

"You just want to," Boyd countered. Isaac snickered and Erica gave him a teasing punch in the shoulder.

"Okay, we need a couch, a dining set, and furniture for Derek's room." Stiles said when they'd entered the furniture warehouse.

"Can you afford all of that?" Boyd asked. Stiles ran a hand across the top of his head and shifted guiltily.

"We'll be fine," Derek answered decisively.

"How much money do you have?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"I have a large inheritance and money saved from New York," Derek replied calmly. "But I should probably get a job after this," he added after a moment.

"So what's first?" Isaac asked. Stiles got the impression he was trying to change the subject.

"Couch." Stiles answered. They wandered to the living room furniture.

They mostly stayed in a close group, so when Isaac wandered away while Erica and Boyd argued over a suede couch, Stiles took notice. He watched the werewolf walk quietly toward a large black couch. Isaac ran a hand over the back of the couch as he stepped around it. He disappeared from Stiles' sight as he flopped low onto the sofa. When he didn't get up after a minute Stiles tapped Derek's arm and headed in that direction. When he got closer Stiles could tell the couch was made of leather. Isaac's eyes flicked up at him when he reached it but he didn't move. Stiles sat down next to him and let out a satisfied groan as he sank into it comfortably. Derek came to stand in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest. Erica crashed agilely beside Stiles, having hopped over the back of the sofa. Boyd just leaned down, resting his strong forearms on the cushion behind Stiles.

"Is this it then?" Derek asked, watching them all settle comfortably on the couch.

"Absolutely," Erica purred.

"It's your jacket in couch form," Stiles said. He realized that was probably the reason Isaac had been drawn to it. 'Because Derek is his home,' Stiles thought.

"I thought black was depressing?" Derek teased.

"I like black," Isaac said coolly.

"I like this couch," Boyd chimed in.

"All right," Derek said, grabbing a tag for when they were ready. They got up reluctantly. They picked out a dining set with a warm oak finish and high backed chairs without much fuss and then they were on to the bedroom set.

"You should get a big bed," Erica declared. "Since there'll be two of you in it. Three if baby Isaac wants to snuggle with Mommy and Daddy." Isaac rolled his eyes in response.

"We're not sharing a room," Derek said flatly. She just smirked at him.

"It might be easier though, for next time," Stiles said, thinking out loud. The pack sort of paused, surprised at how casual he'd been.

"Is that an invitation?" Derek said predatorily.

"I don't need to hear this," Boyd said, walking off. Isaac and Erica followed him. Stiles let them get a little way away before wrapping his arms around Derek's waist and kissing him lightly.

"It's a promise," Stiles answered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before pulling away to join the others. Derek followed with a smile. They found a king with a sturdy wood frame and Derek declared them done.

"Whoa, hold on. A bed does not a bedroom make," Stiles objected. "You still need a nightstand and a dresser."

"I don't need them, just the bed is fine," Derek replied.

"No, no it's not," Stiles reaffirmed.

"I don't need a dresser, I can keep my clothes in my duffle like I always have," Derek said. There was finality in his tone and he turned away from Stiles, leading the pack toward the store front.

"So you can run away again?" Stiles asked darkly. Derek froze and spun around in the same manner he would if Stiles had been a hunter with a crossbow. They stared each other down for a moment. Then Stiles grabbed the tags for the furniture that matched the bed and pushed them roughly into Derek's hands.

"We're getting them," he said firmly and Derek didn't argue.

There was a tension among the pack now. It didn't stop them from going to the store together. By the time they got back to the house they were beginning to feel more at ease again. They didn't leave when the groceries were brought in either. The three betas sat on the floor of the empty living room, chatting quietly. Stiles set about cooking while Derek watched him, leaning silently against the counter.

"I'm not going to run away," Derek said after a while.

"I know. I just… can you just humor me by putting your clothes in the dresser? I'll feel… safer if you aren't already packed."

"I can do that."

"Okay," Stiles said, letting out a sigh of relief. Derek watched him a while longer, preparing a ridiculous quantity of food. Eventually he let out a weary sigh.

"I didn't know they'd stay," he said apologetically.

"I did. Their home has a house now, they might never leave again," Stiles replied. "But that's okay; I like them here with us. Our pack." He paused after a moment and drew up sharply. He turned toward the living room and called out, "Hey Erica! Call Scott and tell him to get his ass over here! And tell him to bring Allison!" He looked cautiously at Derek, asking if that was okay. Derek nodded.

"Our pack," he said contentedly.

Author's Notes:

1) I'm sorry if the quality on this chapter isn't as good. I needed to have this chapter before I could move on but it's still more or less filler.

2) This is the point at which I stop trying to account for changes in canon. 208 Raving just exploded so many things that I'm done trying to keep up and guess in advance. Sorry.


	8. Congregation

It had been a little over a year and a half since Stiles had moved in with Derek and officially become pack. Things had changed a lot since then and half the time Stiles felt like he was barely keeping up. Derek had gotten a job with a construction company, a career path that came in handy when they decided to renovate the Hale house, and Stiles had enrolled in the police academy, which made his father both proud and extremely uneasy.

After the first few months of Stiles sneaking into Derek's room and curling up with him on the bed for the night, they'd decided to just share the room. They'd gotten a bigger bed for the spare room which had almost immediately become Isaac's. He'd only been a little surprised when he'd caught Stiles putting his freshly laundered clothes into the dresser like they belonged there. Most nights Erica ended up sleeping snugly beside him although she and Boyd still maintained their own apartments. Boyd rarely slept over, crashing on the couch when he did. The whole pack spent a majority of their free time at the house, even Scott and Allison who had been reluctant at first. It was cramped, but somehow the feeling of pack made it workable and they didn't get on each other's nerves any more than they would have anyway.

Scott and Allison had been living together since they'd become independent adults so no one was really surprised when one day they announced their plan to get married. That didn't stop Derek from throwing a small fit which Stiles was more than happy to calm him out of. The impending permanence of their union was nerve wracking for the whole pack but it seemed to settle the Argents' bloodlust a bit. Stiles hadn't had to remove any arrows or rush a werewolf to Dr. Deaton for nearly nine months. Today was the big day and the boys were all in the master bedroom getting dressed while Erica prepped herself in Isaac's room. They'd meet the happy couple at the church.

"This is a bad idea," Derek said shortly as he paced around the room. Stiles was busy adjusting Isaac's tie.

"It'll be fine," Stiles replied. He gave Isaac an appraising look and nodded with satisfaction. "What could go wrong?" he asked, turning toward Derek. The alpha gave him a wildly incredulous look.

"What could go wrong? The Argents could try to kill us Stiles!" Derek spat. Stiles noticed how Isaac and Boyd both seemed to tense at the words.

"He's right you know," Isaac said, trying to restrain the edge of panic in his voice.

"No, he's not. The Argents may be horrible people who have been needlessly hostile and extremely violent toward this pack over the years…" Stiles lost his momentum a bit at the looks on the three werewolves' faces. "But! It's Allison's _wedding_! Even they wouldn't ruin their daughter's wedding," he finished enthusiastically.

"Her wedding to a werewolf," Boyd supplied. Derek shot Stiles a look that said 'exactly'. Stiles sighed. He stepped firmly up to Derek and ran his hands soothingly down the older man's lapels.

"Look, I know the situation isn't ideal but we're going to go, and we're going to smile, and we're going to play nice with any and all Argents there. They've backed off a lot since this whole wedding thing started and they're not going to lose their shit today. If there is one thing I know about Chris Argent it's that he loves Allison. Everything will be fine." Stiles held Derek's gaze steadily. Derek exhaled deeply and kissed Stiles warmly.

"Let's go," he said, with only the slightest hint of apprehension.

They took Boyd's SUV to the church; it had more or less become the official pack car. The church wasn't large but it had a classic style and was plenty roomy enough for the number of people attending, provided the Argents and the pack didn't go to war.

"Remember," Stiles said, clasping Derek's shoulder as he moved to exit the vehicle, "No growling, no baring fangs, no glowing eyes, and _no_ subtle threats!" Derek rolled his eyes and pulled out of Stiles' grip. "And no overt threats either!" he called after Derek as he waited for Isaac or Erica to let him out.

The five of them headed into the chapel and the werewolves stopped short at the sight of Chris Argent standing in front of the small stage. Stiles glanced between the hunter and Derek before swallowing hard and pulling a smile. He approached Chris like he would any of his friends' parents, as if there wasn't a history of threats and violence between them. He shook the man's hand warmly.

"Mr. Argent, good to see you. Great day for a wedding, huh?" Chris shook his hand and nodded, he'd always been pretty good at this game. Stiles looked around a bit as the hunter released his hand.

"Where's Mrs. Argent? Helping Allison get ready?" There was a flash of sorrow in Chris's eyes before he glanced away that took Stiles by surprise, he'd never seen anything but malice in the man's expression.

"Victoria's not coming," he said quietly. Stiles tensed. He knew the Argents were less thrilled about this than even Derek but he'd never suspected Allison's mother would refuse to attend. He thought about how much her absence must be hurting Allison and how profound her father's presence was in contrast. On impulse he wrapped his arms around Chris in a comforting embrace. He stepped back quickly when he heard a low growl from Derek. Well, there went rule number one. Chris nodded at him appreciatively before settling himself in the front pew. Stiles put his hands on Derek's shoulder and guided him to sit in the pew on the other side of the isle. Derek put up no resistance, just stared at him intensely.

"You four get comfy here while I go find Scott," Stiles said. Derek grabbed his wrist as he turned to go and pulled him onto his lap. He felt strong arms wrap around him and Derek's hot breath on his neck.

"Don't do that again," he warned, nipping at Stiles' neck before releasing him. Stiles adjusted his suit huffily and left without a word.

Scott was looking panicked with glowing golden eyes when Stiles slipped into the room. Mrs. McCall was standing a bit distant from him, her arms crossed defensively. She hadn't taken it as well as the Sheriff when she'd found out about Scott, but she was coping.

"Everything okay in here?" Stiles asked lightly. Mrs. McCall sort of rolled her eyes and jerked her head toward her son.

"No it's not okay! Victoria isn't coming, and Allison is already upset, and everything's going to go wrong, and I don't even know how to tie a bowtie!" Scott complained. Stiles nodded, practically leaping over to him. He took the ends of the bowtie and began arranging them.

"Maybe should have thought of that before opting for one but hey, Isaac can't even handle a normal tie properly so you're ahead of the game." He pulled the ends tight, leaving a neat little bow. He smacked Scott's chest lightly with the back of his hand. "There, see! There's a reason you keep me around." It didn't seem to calm Scott at all.

"Look, not everything is going to go wrong. Some things will, I won't lie. This is a wedding, things happen. But it will mostly just be little things like stepping on your mom's feet when you dance with her and spilling champagne on your crotch. And okay, the Argents have reached a new level of douchbaggery, but Chris is here! A fact for which I am begrudgingly starting to admire him, I might add."

"What about the pack?" Scott shouted.

"The pack is under strict orders to behave, I've got you covered."

"And Derek?"

"Oh don't worry about Derek. Derek is going to be on his best behavior, because if he isn't I won't let him tear off this beautiful suit and do horrible naughty things to me all night, and trust me he w…"

"Stiles stop!" Stiles gave him a sly grin.

"You see why over sharing is bad? Keep that in mind after the honeymoon. Now show me your beautiful brown eyes," he said, pulling a contacts container from his pocket.

"What are those for?" Scott asked warily.

"These babies are special lenses that will keep your eyes from flaring. Dr. Deaton showed me how to get them and I bought enough for the pack."

"Dude that's awesome! But we didn't get a photographer," Scott sulked.

"I hired Matt behind your back." Scott beamed and pulled him into a crushing hug. Afterwards it was Mrs. McCall's turn to hug him.

"You're a good friend Stiles," she said motherly.

The ceremony went off more or less smoothly. Chris hesitated a moment when the officiant asked 'who gives this woman to be wed' but managed to bite out his line before the pause became too awkward. Stiles and Lydia both handed the rings over without dropping them. The vows were as smooth as words can be when choked out between sappy love tears. They were pronounced man and wife and it was time for the reception.

Everyone migrated to a medium sized room with a small dance floor and a handful of tables. There really weren't many guests and only a few that had no idea about werewolves. Stiles was looking forward to this because eating, talking, and dancing were three of his favorite things. Eating came first with finger sandwiches, cheeses, vegetables, and wedding cake. Stiles grabbed a slice for him and a slice for Derek; he was overjoyed when Derek slid the second piece back at him.

Next came the toasts. As the best man Stiles was up first. He took the microphone, fumbling and almost dropping it before clearing his throat and addressing the room,

"I've known Scott basically all our lives, we've always been best friends, partners in crime, and a major nuisance to everyone around us." He paused, shooting Derek a look, "We've been with each other through skinned knees, loss, adventure, and a few major identity crises," he shared a knowing look with most of the room. "Everyone knows that I had my first crush pretty young and I held on to it for dear life, but not Scott. Scott would always listen to me going on and on about this amazing girl," he glanced at Lydia, "and just shake his head and tell me I was crazy. And I would say, 'you wait man, someday you'll fall in love with the most wonderful girl and you'll get it'. And that's exactly what happened.

"When Allison moved to Beacon Hills Scott was a goner. Suddenly he was the guy going on and on and on and on and _on _about the girl and I was the one shaking my head and calling him crazy. And I still think he's crazy, but only about her. I think everyone here knows things weren't always smooth between them. They were like Romeo and Juliet only, hey, they're still alive! And now they're getting married and really starting their lives together. That's awesome man," he said to Scott. "So to Scott and Allison, may you never have business with an apothecary and may you continue to have the most disgustingly loving marriage as you had relationship before it." Stiles raised his glass and the room echoed the action joyfully. Lydia took the mic. with a dainty smile. She turned sharply toward the room causing her hair to swing around her shoulders attractively.

"When I first met Scott he was a total loser," Lydia said. She pursed her lips and gave Scott a once over. "And not much has changed. But nobody can be a loser all the time I guess, because he won Allison's heart right away. I don't really get it, but I'm glad you're happy. Congratulations." She tipped her glass up ever so slightly, elegant as always, and took a long sip. Stiles took the microphone from her again and scurried over to the table where Mrs. McCall was seated. He handed her the mic. and she took it with a small smile before standing. Stiles took his seat quickly.

"Scott, I'm so proud of you. I know…" her voice broke and tears welled up rapidly in her eyes. She shook her head and made a valiant attempt to recover. "I'm sorry, I'm just so… so hap… happy…" Derek stood from beside Stiles and moved to put a firm and comforting hand on her back. He eased her gently back into her seat and whispered something in here ear. She nodded through her tears and he took the microphone, turning to Scott and Allison.

"Scott was one of the first people I met when I came back to Beacon Hills. He's like a brother to me, you know, we don't always get along but we can count on each other. Scott reminded me a lot of myself at that age, making all the same mistakes and struggling with a lot of the same problems. And he never once listened to anything I told him. But standing here today I understand why. You two belong together. So to the stupid kid that grew up to be a good man, may you always find happiness regardless of who tries to stop you." There was a small moment of tension as Allison's father stood and held out a hand for the microphone. Derek gave a small nod and handed it over wordlessly before returning to his seat. Chris turned to address his daughter.

"Allison sweetie, I know your mom and I haven't always been understanding about your relationship with Scott. And I'm sorry. I can see how happy you are today and I would never want to destroy that happiness. When you love someone that much nothing else matters. Live a long and beautiful life." He barely tipped his glass at her before drinking deeply. She smiled at him gratefully with tears in her eyes and tipped her glass in return before taking a sip.

Scott didn't spill his champagne but he did step on both Allison and his mother's toes when they had their official dances. Allison was positively glowing when she danced with her father and Stiles urged Matt to take plenty of pictures, uncertain of what might happen between them later. When all the official dancing was over they opened up the floor for everyone.

"Shall we?" Stiles asked, standing and offering a hand to Derek.

"No," Derek answered flatly.

"What?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"I'm not dancing."

"Oh come on," Stiles pleaded. Derek leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, shooting Stiles a clear look of refusal.

"Fine," Stiles growled. "Isaac?" Isaac looked horrified at the idea but Stiles grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. It was party music, not a slow dance, but Isaac still seemed uncomfortable until Erica joined them. Stiles danced his way through most of the guests, occasionally glancing at Derek who always shook his head. When he decided to break for water he plopped into a chair between his father and Dr. Deaton. Chris Argent was seated beside the Sheriff.

"What, you guys too manly to dance?" Stiles asked conversationally as he gulped down a glass of water.

"I'm afraid I have two left feet," Dr. Deaton replied. "Although I might ask Melissa for a dance if they play something slower."

"You know me son, I only dance with the right partner," Sheriff Stilinski said with a sigh. Stiles nodded and looked at Chris expectantly. The hunter gave him a dry smile.

"This isn't really my kind of crowd," he said after a moment.

"Might want to get used to it, we're family now," Stiles said. He set down the glass and stood. He'd only taken a few steps when an arm landed across his back and a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

"About that," Chris Argent said, tilting his head close conspiratorially. Stiles caught sight of Derek rising sharply and multiple pairs of glowing eyes. Another rule down the drain. Stiles made a vague wave signaling them to stand down.

"Geez, do you want to ruin everything?" Stiles accused.

"I don't trust Scott," Argent said, ignoring Stiles' comment. "I don't trust Derek. I don't trust any of those animals you call a pack. But you're human so I'm willing to trust you."

"How very progressive and not at all unjustly prejudiced of you," Stiles said sarcastically.

"Take care of my daughter. She can handle herself pretty well, but you know better than anyone the dangers of running with wolves, so keep her safe." Stiles took a deep breath.

"I take care of everyone in my pack. Allison is safe with Scott. She's safe with Derek. She's safe with me. That's one thing you never need to worry about," he said firmly. Chris pat him on the shoulder and released him, returning to the table where Sheriff Stilinski was eyeing him skeptically. Stiles let out a deep breath. He gave Derek a winning smile and gestured to the dance floor. Derek shook his head and Stiles found someone else to join him.

When they announced the next song would be slow Stiles returned to the table. He'd been waiting for this and he knew he could win.

"Dance with me," he asked sweetly.

"I said no," Derek replied.

"You said no fifty pop songs ago. Say yes now. Romantic music, sexy tuxedos, holding me close, you know you want to."

"No," Derek repeated.

"Fine, don't dance with me. I'll ask Lydia," Stiles said coolly, turning to scan the room. He grinned when he heard Derek let out an annoyed huff.

"Fine," Derek growled. They pulled onto the floor just as the song started. Stiles caught Matt's attention on the sly. He'd promised an extra hundred dollars if Matt got some good shots of him and Derek and now was the perfect moment. Derek was a good dancer, moving easily to the music while keeping his attention focused on Stiles.

"My parents were married here," Derek said quietly into Stiles' ear as they swayed together.

"Mine too," Stiles replied. "I used to think I'd get married here too." He felt Derek tense ever so slightly without breaking their rhythm. Stiles wasn't sure if it was at the mention of getting married or something else.

"Not anymore?"

"No," Stiles answered, breath hitching as his throat tightened unpleasantly. "It was before… If I stood up there, saying the vows that she… I'd just… I wouldn't be able to…" Derek pulled him closer, kissed his temple, and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"I understand," he whispered. Stiles took several calming breaths and managed to regain control.

"Just watching Scott and Allison was so hard. I don't want to do this, I just want to… to sign the papers and be together." Stiles' pulse quickened, they'd never talked about this. "When the time comes," he added hastily.

"When the time comes," Derek repeated quietly, Stiles couldn't quite read the inflection in his voice. The song ended and another upbeat tune began, taking them by surprise. "I'm going to go talk to Scott," Derek said, pulling away. Stiles let him go reluctantly and decided to sit for a while. He watched Derek catch Scott and Allison and chat with them briefly. Then Derek came back to the table and they sat close together, cuddling and watching people dance.

After a while things started to wind down. They called all the unmarried women together to catch the bouquet. Erica won which wasn't surprising since she was the only werewolf in the small group. Then the men were up for the garter toss. Stiles eyed Derek briefly before getting up. He wasn't about to try convincing the man to play, he figured it was a lost cause. Allison didn't seem to agree, she made a big show of dragging Derek and a few other skittish gentlemen to the dance floor with the rest. Stiles was grateful to see she'd left his dad alone. He was mildly surprised when Derek caught the garter, mostly because he didn't' expect him to try. The werewolf took a picture holding it up with Scott and then stuffed it into Stiles' pants pocket.

"All right, so, thank you all for coming and celebrating with us, and thank you for all the presents," Scott said after the DJ had played the last song. Allison smacked him playfully. "There's just one last thing before everyone goes home. So, uh, Derek?" Stiles whipped his head around to look at the alpha as Derek stood and moved to take the mic.

"Thank you Scott, Allison. I, uh, I've been trying for a while now to find the best time for this," Derek cleared his throat nervously, "Having everyone we care about here with us, it feels like the right time. And the bride and groom were gracious enough to agree. Stiles," Derek said coming to kneel in front of him. "Will you marry me?" The room was perfectly still while Stiles tried to remember how breathing worked. There was a long silence in which Derek just looked at him and he looked back at Derek. Then Erica cuffed Stiles on the back of the head, jump starting his brain.

"Yeah, yes! Hell yes!" he shouted, throwing his arms around Derek's neck and knocking him off balance so that they both tumbled sideways. There was a mix of applause and laughter around them and people began saying farewells and heading out. Derek smiled brightly at Stiles and kissed him. Then he pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and offered it to Stiles. Stiles pulled his arms from around Derek and sat up. He took the box and opened it as Derek sat up as well.

"I wasn't sure about an engagement ring but I got these," Derek said, a question in his tone. Inside the box were two matching black wedding bands each inlaid with a strip of what Stiles recognized as moonstone. For the second time that day Stiles felt the tears coming. He buried his face in Derek's shoulder.

"They're perfect," came his muffled voice as Derek pulled him closer.

Author's Notes:

I just want to say a quick thank you to all of you reading this and adding it to your favorites and follows and commenting. You are all awesome.


	9. Control

**Author's Note: This chapter introduces Stiles and Derek's kids. They play a pretty central role in the rest of the fic, although Stiles and Derek are still fairly important as well. To put it another way, there be OCs ahead. Feel free to stop reading if it's not your thing.**

"I've been thinking a lot about babies," Stiles announced. They were lying in bed, Stiles leaning against Derek's chest and Derek's arms wrapped around him warmly, watching a movie they'd seen a hundred times. Derek let out a sigh and then pulled Stiles closer. He nuzzled his neck and nipped playfully at his earlobe before asking,

"What about them?"

"I want some." Stiles' pulse quickened. They'd talked about this before, they both wanted kids, but it had always been a hypothetical someday scenario.

"How many?" Derek asked calmly. He felt Stiles smile broadly.

"Hundreds," Stiles said joyfully, then after a moment, "A bunch, it doesn't matter. We can start with one though."

"And how do you plan to go about that?"

"I was thinking we could have a surrogate and both donate sperm. I want little baby Hales," he was speaking very quietly, the way he always did when he poured out his heart.

"Or baby Stilinskis? They could be yours if we do it that way."

"Our babies. And they can be werewolves or humans and it won't matter because we'll love them forever either way. Sound good?" Stiles asked.

"Sounds good," Derek replied, nuzzling his neck again and giving him light kisses.

"I was thinking we could ask Erica," Stiles said after a moment. "Since she's pack she'll still be a part of their lives. But I wasn't sure if that would affect the whole werewolf/human thing. Would they all be werewolves or could they still be human? And if she shifted would a normal baby still be okay?"

"Werewolves can have human babies, they'd be okay," Derek answered. He took Stiles' hand and kissed his wrist. It was Derek's way of saying he loved Stiles' humanity, kissing his wrist where Peter had nearly ended it. It always reassured Stiles when he was feeling anxious about his own weakness. Stiles understood, their kids would be fine.

Neither Dr. Deaton nor Mrs. McCall was thrilled to be called to the Hale house at three in the morning, but they came anyway. Derek had been too young when he'd lost his family to know what to expect from werewolf pregnancy so he and Stiles had convinced everyone to prepare for a home birth. Stiles had spent a great deal of time reading up on the subject but it didn't make him any less uneasy as Erica lay screaming in the bed. Derek gripped her hand tightly, playing daddy and alpha simultaneously, a firm, calm presence. Stiles, on the other hand, was pacing like a caged animal, jumping whenever a contraction made Erica roar.

"Calm down, Son," Sheriff Stilinski said, clapping a comforting hand on Stiles' shoulder. "You're worse than I was when you were born." Stiles looked at his father sheepishly but there was still panic in his eyes.

"What if something goes wrong? What if he needs help and we're too far away from the hospital? What if…"

"Stiles!" Derek snapped. Stiles saw that he was making Derek nervous as well and made a concentrated effort to be still and quiet. It resulted in a small whimper when the next contraction hit. This time is was Mrs. McCall attempting to calm him, putting her hands on his shoulders firmly and staring him down.

"She's doing fine Stiles. So is the baby. I've seen this enough times to know, hell, I've done it." Stiles swallowed and nodded but he knew it wasn't enough to keep him calm. He stepped up behind Derek, wrapped his arms tightly around his husband's waist, and buried his face between the strong shoulders. Derek didn't release Erica's hand but he curled his free arm over Stiles' in a comforting gesture.

Stiles heartbeat sped up when Mrs. McCall told Erica it was time to push, Derek felt it against his back like a jackhammer. Stiles squeezed Derek tightly when Dr. Deaton said he could see the head, Derek endured. Then the baby was crying and Stiles was stumbling away from Derek, looking terrified and desperate. Mrs. McCall cleaned the baby off and handed the tiny bundle to his new dad. Stiles stared down at the baby in his arms with tears blurring the edges of his vision. He turned toward Derek excitedly.

"Look at him! He's so cute and tiny. And… he's ours. We have a son," Stiles said, completely in awe. Derek smiled at the both of them and took one of the baby's tiny hands between his fingers, holding it up toward Stiles.

"He's a werewolf," Derek said. Stiles saw the tiny claws at the edge of his fingers. He beamed and brought the baby over to Erica. She touched him gently but didn't make any motion to take him. She had agreed to be their surrogate but she didn't really want kids and she wasn't going to demand much importance in their children's lives. They were pack, that was enough.

"Well, you'd better give him a name then," Stiles' dad said, peering at his grandson over his son's shoulder. Derek reached out for the baby and Stiles handed him over happily.

"Andrew Richard Hale," Derek whispered reverently, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him and looking like he might never let him go. Stiles' heart nearly broke when he saw the tears Derek was barely holding back. The first new Hale since before the fire, it was significant.

Stiles wasn't any better a year and a half later, if anything he was worse. At first he had tried to focus on Derek and remind himself that Andrew had been fine and it would be okay. He wanted to hold Andrew but the baby had been too distressed in the room and they'd had Isaac take him away. Eventually Stiles had just ended up shaking in a corner trying to fight off a panic attack. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't having twins.

The first twin came out screaming, drawing Stiles' attention instantly. Mrs. McCall moved to hand her to Derek, who was closest, but he shook his head and gestured at Stiles. Stiles took her gratefully. Holding their daughter chased all of the anxiety out of him. He smiled at her, kissed her forehead, and ran a finger over her tiny claws. The second twin took his time following his sister; Stiles didn't really notice until he heard Dr. Deaton say uncertainly,

"He's so small." Stiles looked up sharply and saw Derek moving to the baby's side like a flash of lightning. Stiles could see that he was very small and he wasn't crying at all.

"Hospital, now," Mrs. McCall said sharply. Stiles would have had a heart attack right there if it weren't for the warm baby in his arms. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. They were in the police cruiser racing to the hospital with sirens blaring. Derek was cradling the baby boy nervously but he'd managed to draw a shuddering cry from the infant. He was breathing, but only just. And then they were at the hospital and the tiny boy was being put in an incubator.

It was terrifying, but the doctors stabilized him. He was in the hospital for two weeks before they were allowed to take him home. He was never left alone though, the pack, in whole or in part, was always with him. When Stiles and Derek were finally able to hold both twins in the comfort of their own home they breathed a sigh of relief. Laura Marie and Martin David Hale. They didn't have any more; they didn't think they could take it.

Andrew turned out to be a miniature werewolf Stiles. He had soft brown hair and large, warm brown eyes. The day he started talking he seemed to decide never to stop. In that respect he was actually worse than his father. But he also had a steady confidence that often reminded everyone of Derek. Someday he would be a powerful alpha.

Laura was a force to be reckoned with. Derek said she looked just like her namesake, with charming green eyes and glossy black hair. Her personality was modeled after the two women in her life; sassy like Erica, kind like Allison, and fierce like both. She reveled in being a werewolf more than her older brother and it often caused fights with her younger.

Martin looked like Stiles imagined Derek had as a kid. He had Derek's hair and eyes and he moved like Derek. His personality especially reminded everyone of the Derek they'd met their sophomore year. He was broody and aggressive most of the time and he didn't play well with others. He also seemed desperate to prove his worth to everyone. He pushed himself much harder than his siblings.

"Because he's not a wolf," Andrew said one day after he and Stiles had watched Martin follow Derek off to exercise. That had confused Stiles when he'd realized. How could he look so much like Derek and be human? But Derek had just shrugged and said it happened sometimes. Stiles wondered if it was more common with twins.

"I keep telling him it doesn't matter. You're human and you keep up with the pack just fine. But he won't listen to me. I think Laura teases him about it sometimes. You should talk to her. I mean, I've talked to her, but she won't listen to me either. She might listen to you though, since she's kinda a daddy's girl." Stiles smiled at Andrew's verbal diarrhea, it was something they bonded over.

Stiles was actually surprised at how difficult raising werewolves was. He'd watched the betas struggle for control but he somehow thought it would be easier for children born that way. He was wrong. Sure, by the time they reached high school their control would be as solid as Derek's but that was a long way off. The trouble was, kids tend to lack impulse control; it wasn't that big a deal when the impulse was to push a kid on the playground, it was dangerous when the impulse was to sink your razor sharp claws into them.

They kept the kids out of school for as long as possible to give them time to learn. Andrew had even sacrificed a year so he and Laura could help keep each other in check. When their first day was getting closer Derek sat them down and explained about having an anchor to keep them human.

"What's your anchor?" Martin asked. He didn't really need to know any of this but Derek and Stiles both felt it was better to include him. Besides, he might be able to help in unexpected ways if they shared the knowledge.

"It's changed over the years," Derek answered slowly. "When I was little it was my sister. Then when I lost everyone in the fire it became my anger. Now it's Stiles."

"So twice it was someone you love, is that easier? Or did you feel more in control when it was anger? Can it be a place? Or a memory? Can you be your own anchor? Like if I really like being human can that be strong enough? What about…" Andrew fired off rapidly before Stiles scooped him up and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing the onslaught. He was six, the twins just shy of five. Derek sighed.

"You'll have to find out for yourself what works for you. It's different for everyone. Love does seem to be a more powerful anchor but it isn't the only one. You've got a lot of ideas so I think you'll be okay. You'll figure it out." Andrew beamed at him.

"No he won't," Laura said bitingly. "He has too many ideas; he won't be able to focus on one long enough for it to work." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Andrew can do it," Martin said flatly. "You're the one who'll have trouble." As if to prove him right her eyes flashed and her claws extended. Martin didn't even flinch.

"Calm down," Derek said soothingly.

"What would you know about it, you're not even a wolf?" Laura shouted, lurching forward. She was stopped by Andrew's firm grip on the back of her neck, claws just barely poking out from his fingertips. He'd been off Stiles lap in an instant. Stiles had seen Derek do the same thing when the betas had gotten riled up but he wasn't sure where Andrew had learned the technique. Laura's claws retracted and she looked like she was fighting a whimper. Andrew released her and flopped cross-legged on the floor as if nothing had happened. Martin shot him a glare and stormed off.

"You need to work on your control," Derek said authoritatively. "You could kill your brother if you're not careful."

It was a problem. Either because they were twins or because they were on opposite sides of the human/werewolf line, Laura and Martin always seemed to push each other's buttons. Somehow Andrew managed to keep things in check at school, but at home the twins would often end up brawling before anyone knew to stop them. Martin was strong and managed to mostly hold his own but Laura could heal and had sharp claws. Someone always stopped them before it got too out of hand but Martin always seemed to have at least one set of vicious red scratches. People noticed. Stiles fabricated a story about a wild dog that came around their property that Martin insisted on trying to take care of. Martin sold the story well.

They kept Andrew and Laura carefully restrained in the cellar when the moon was full. Andrew had shown remarkable control so far but they all agreed it was better to give him a few years. Martin always insisted on sitting with them, out of reach but there, watching what happened. Derek was also present, keeping an eye on his kids and making sure nothing went wrong. He still wasn't fast enough one night when Laura slipped her restraints and went for Martin. The boy screamed in agony as her claws found his face, cutting deeply and tearing from his ear to his eye.

Derek had Laura pinned, snarling and clawing at his arms, when he felt Andrew rocket past him. He turned, ready to grab the boy and fling him beside his sister. It wasn't necessary. Andrew was cradling Martin, fully human, and pulling his brother to his feet. Stiles appeared then, heart pounding, eyes terrified. He took the bleeding boy to the hospital.

Martin wasn't allowed in the cellar after that. Andrew wasn't restrained anymore. Laura redoubled her effort to gain control. They had fewer accidents. The school called social services. The scratches scarred. They got through it.

Author's Notes:

1) First of all, sorry for the lag between now and the last update. I didn't feel like this chapter had a satisfactory resolution and I didn't want to leave anyone anxious for more. On the plus side, you might notice that there are now 3 more chapters.

2) Sorry to everyone who was hoping for a Sterek wedding this chapter. I would have obliged, but I pretty much covered exactly what it would look like in the last chapter and it wouldn't have been interesting.


	10. Consequence

Stiles was parked at a speed trap, drumming out a rhythm on the steering wheel and idly watching the radar gun. He'd pulled over a few people earlier but Beacon Hills was boring. Stiles figured that was a good thing since the town's preferred method of being interesting was murderous supernatural creatures.

"Unit 24, what's your twenty?" The radio buzzed. Stiles grabbed it, thankful for the distraction.

"This is unit 24. I'm parked off of Washington catching speeders. What's up?" Stiles asked.

"I think you'd better come back to the station 24," the dispatcher said with a sigh.

"Copy that, I'll be there in fifteen," Stiles replied. He wondered why they were calling him back and silently prayed it didn't mean trouble. He liked boring Beacon Hills, it could stay boring forever.

The entire sheriff's department seemed subdued when he got there and it made Stiles uneasy. Sure he was the loudest of the bunch but that didn't make them a quiet group by any stretch. One of the deputies walked up to him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder as if to brace him for bad news.

"It's the Sheriff, he's had a heart attack," the deputy said quietly.

"What?" Stiles asked. He couldn't seem to process the words. "But he's okay, right?" His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding. The deputy gave him a long look that spoke volumes before shaking his head. Stiles snapped into action, pushing past the deputy and crashing into his father's office as though he would be there. The office was empty. Stiles collapsed against the wall beside the door and slid down to the floor. He cradled his head in his arms and let the tears flow. He couldn't breathe.

Stiles didn't register his husband's presence until Derek was pulling him into his arms; hadn't noticed at all when he'd entered the room and shut the door. Stiles clutched at him desperately, trying to burrow into Derek's broad chest and strong arms so that nothing could get to him. Derek just held him. He didn't say, "it's okay" just "I love you".

Eventually, when the tears had run out and Stiles was left feeling numb, he let Derek lead him out to his car and drive him home. Everyone was waiting for them in the foyer when they arrived. Stiles couldn't find anything in him to give to them so he just pressed closer to Derek who shook his head at the pack, saying 'not now' with the simple gesture. He guided Stiles upstairs to their bedroom. Stiles curled around him on the bed.

"What do you need?" Derek asked softly.

"My dad," Stiles choked. Derek rested his cheek on the top of Stiles' head.

"I know, I'm sorry," Derek whispered, a slight rasp in his voice. Stiles realized Derek was fighting back his own tears. He shifted and took Derek's face in his hands. He kissed his husband gently, lovingly.

Stiles felt like he had broken into a million tiny pieces, but he could hold them together. He would get through the night taking care of Derek; get through tomorrow taking care of the kids. He would take care of the pack and he would take care of Beacon Hills. Because they'd all lost someone and they all needed him. And because taking care of everyone else was how Stiles took care of himself. He would get through this.

It seemed like the entire town came to the wake, which gave Stiles a feeling of pride he decided to embrace. His father had meant something to so many people, had made the world a better place with his presence. It was still hard. Every once and a while it would overwhelm him and he'd sit with his family while the pack ran interference with the public. All three children, now teenagers, were quiet. Stiles had made sure they had a good relationship with their grandfather and he knew they were missing him almost as much as he was.

It was just the pack and the sheriff's department at the funeral because the cemetery couldn't accommodate much more than that. The priest stood before the coffin and said a few words, a prayer, and a quiet farewell. Then the acting Sheriff stood to say a few words.

"Sheriff Stilinski," he paused but didn't correct himself, "was a great man. He was brave and loyal. He was…"

"He was stupid!" Everyone fell silent as they turned toward the voice. It was Martin. "He died of a heart attack, that's stupid!"

"Martin," Derek growled warningly.

"It's a stupid way to die!" There were tears in his eyes. He stormed up to the coffin and gave it a sharp kick. "You fucked up! You're so stupid!" he screamed. Then he was pushing through the crowd and running off. Derek started to go after him but Andrew grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"Take care of Pops," he said before taking off after his brother. There was an awkward silence for a moment while everyone struggled to move past the outburst. The acting Sheriff looked around awkwardly and returned to his seat. There just wasn't anything to say.

"What was that?" Derek demanded when they got home.

"The truth," Martin snapped. "I'm not going to lie just because he's dead!"

"It's not the truth and saying it was selfish! You need to apologize to your father for ruining your grandfather's funeral!" Stiles just stared at him, the hurt obvious in his eyes. Martin hesitated a moment, looked at Stiles with a torn expression, then swallowed hard and replied,

"Bite me." Derek growled. It had become the boy's favorite retort, rearing up whenever he and Derek argued. It was a plea as much as a challenge and everyone knew it. Andrew put a hand on Martin's shoulder, trying to calm him. Martin just shook the hand off and stalked up to his room.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said. He'd gotten into the habit of apologizing for his little brother. "He's just sad so he's acting out. Grandpa always gave him a hard time about his attitude, you know. I think he wants that back. He didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," Stiles sighed, "But he did."

Things didn't get better after that. Stiles had to go through everything his father had left behind. He barely got through it. Boyd had been a big help, standing steadily beside Stiles and doing whatever Stiles couldn't. Eventually they'd taken care of everything and put the house up for sale. Stiles hated how empty it felt. On top of that they held an emergency election which Stiles won by an overwhelming majority. He wasn't sure if it was because of his father or his own skill, either way he was the new Sheriff Stilinski. The new title came with added pressures that Stiles wasn't sure he could handle. And Martin was getting worse. They could hardly get through a day without him picking a fight or challenging Derek.

"Where have you been?" Derek asked calmly when Martin came home at one in the morning.

"Out," Martin answered flippantly.

"It's the full moon."

"So?"

"You know the rules, you don't go out alone on the full moon, and you definitely don't stay out till one," Derek explained.

"What does it matter? I don't have a problem with the moon," Martin replied.

"But if something happens we might not be able to protect you," Derek said wearily. They'd had this conversation before.

"Bite me," Martin retorted, retreating without another word. Derek took a calming breath and headed to his room.

"How'd it go?" Stiles asked as Derek climbed into bed.

"How do you think?" he huffed.

"He said it again, huh?" Derek just growled in response. "Look, I've been happy to defer to your alpha wisdom so far, but maybe you should just bite him."

"I can't Stiles." Stiles bobbed his head, willing his husband to elaborate. Derek sighed. "Both of his genetic parents are werewolves but he's not. Maybe he's not supposed to be. I think if I bit him… I don't think he would turn."

"Have you told him that?" Stiles asked, trying not to think about the possibility of his son dying.

"I don't think it would help."

"We'll figure it out," Stiles sighed, snuggling closely.

"You're grounded," Stiles said calmly when Martin came down the stairs the next morning.

"You're joking, right? You're going to ground me for going out when you said I couldn't? Let me know how that works out," Martin scoffed.

"Ha ha, cute. But see, while I won't send angry werewolves out to find your disobedient ass during the full moon, I'd be happy to have them fetch you any other night of the month. Home after school or Erica eats you," Stiles explained dryly.

"Not like I'm not used to scratches," Martin replied, turning to pour himself a glass and giving Stiles a clear shot of the deep scars on his face.

"Why do you take pleasure in hurting me?" Martin raised his eyebrows innocently as he gulped down orange juice.

Stiles had to send the pack after him every day. When a full week had gone by with more fights and no sign of it stopping Stiles got fed up. He pulled the police cruiser up beside Martin as the boy trudged along the side of the road.

"So this is what you need to do so desperately that you ignore your grounding, walk?" Stiles asked. Martin ignored him. "Get in the car."

"Am I under arrest?" Martin asked sarcastically.

"You could be, nobody would try to stop me." Martin stopped and looked away with a deep huff. Then he pulled open the passenger door and slumped into the seat. Stiles watched him for a moment, not driving away.

"Well? Aren't you taking me home?" Martin asked, frustrated.

"What's going on with you? Why are you acting this way?"

"You know why."

"Show everyone you're out of control so your dad will turn you into a snarling beast with claws? Yeah, good plan," Stiles said sarcastically. Martin sat up sharply, rounding on his father.

"You know how long I've wanted this but nobody gave it to me when I was an obedient, contributing member of the pack! You both know I could handle it, you just don't want me to be a wolf!"

"Did you think maybe there's a reason for that?"

"You want me to be as weak as you?" Martin accused.

"No smartass. And I think that ship sailed a long time ago, don't you?" Stiles said flippantly. He sighed. "You know what happens if the bite doesn't take? You die Martin. You could die."

"It's worth it! I'd rather die than be a worthless human for the rest of my life!" Stiles stared at him, expression unreadable. Then he reached for the radio.

"Sheriff Stilinski. I've picked up a delinquent and I'm taking him for a chat with his family. I'll be out of contact for a while."

"Copy that Sheriff. Give him hell," the radio responded.

"Count on it," Stiles said to himself as he pulled onto the road.

Martin started to protest when they pulled up to the cemetery and Stiles killed the engine but Stiles cut him off.

"Shut up. You don't talk now. You follow and you listen and then I take you home. You don't get to talk to me until you've got the message. Let's go," Stiles said icily. Martin did as he was told; in their family Derek had always been the angry one, the enforcer, he'd never seen Stiles truly mad before and it scared him. Stiles led him to a part of the graveyard that was sectioned off with a fence, the Hale family plot, and pointed to a grave.

"This is Derek's mother," Stiles said sharply. "She was loving and kind. She was a teacher. She made a lot of people, including your father, who they are today. But she was just a worthless human." He took a few quick steps and pointed to another grave.

"Your uncle. He was born with respiratory problems and had to struggle every day just to live. But he still went out of his way to make his big brother laugh. He was recovering from a surgery that made him healthier when he died in a fire. But better to die than be a worthless human, right?" Martin didn't dare speak. Stiles nodded and walked away, his son stumbling after him. They stopped in an all too familiar place and Stiles pointed again.

"My mother," he swallowed back his hurt. "She had the most beautiful smile in the world. She was the only person who loved me for my hyperness rather than in spite of it. Even when it took all of her energy just to be in the same room with me, she still loved me. She was a worthless human too." And then Stiles pointed at the grave beside it.

"My father." Martin felt his knees shake unsteadily. "He spent his entire life protecting people and he did a damn good job of it. He saved the whole pack from the kanima. He never gave up on me. And he loved you. This stupid, worthless human _loved you_!" Stiles roared, bitter tears pooling in his eyes.

"But you know who isn't here? You know who's rotting in a shallow grave with no one missing him? Your great uncle Peter. He decided that power and revenge were more important than anything else. He murdered half a dozen people, including his own niece whose only crime was being the alpha. He turned Scott against his will and he would have turned me if I'd let him. A werewolf.

"You think being a werewolf automatically makes you better, Martin, but you're wrong. Your worth doesn't come from what you are; it comes from what you do with the strength you have. And if you don't believe me then maybe you should ask the father you worship why he chose _this_ worthless human for his mate."

Author's Note: I'm totally making things up when I say Sheriff Stilinski saved them from the kanima, but I seriously want it to happen.


	11. Conviction

They drove back to the house in complete silence. Martin kept stealing glances at Stiles. He felt nervous, still uncertain how to react to the sudden anger. Stiles kept his eyes focused on the road, for once not saying anything. When they reached the house Stiles got out and walked him to the door. Derek came to meet them in the doorway and Stiles gave Martin a slight push, sending him stumbling in.

"He's your problem now," Stiles said the razor sharp edge still in his voice. He pulled the door closed behind him as he left. Derek gave Martin a questioning, skeptical look. Martin felt his customary retort on his lips but he didn't say it. He just shifted his gaze and headed up to his room. Martin didn't dwell on what Stiles had told him, nor did he talk to Derek about it. He figured his father would cool off soon enough and everything would go back to normal. He was wrong.

When they all sat down to dinner that night Stiles was his usual warm and friendly self with the rest of the pack but Martin felt a poignant silence between them. When he came down for breakfast the next morning Stiles completely ignored his tentative 'hey'. Martin didn't fight his grounding anymore as a peace offering. It didn't help. The silence stretched between them.

"You need to do something," Andrew said after several days had passed. They were all curled up in the sitting room doing homework. "I've never seen Pops like this; it's kind of freaking me out. What did you do, anyway? I mean this can't just be about the grounding thing, can it?" Martin glanced up at him from his work but said nothing. Laura watched him over the top of a textbook from her spot on the sofa.

"He's right you know, Pops doesn't get mad," she said after the silence started to drag.

"Everyone gets mad," Martin mumbled in response.

"Not Pops, not like this," Laura replied. Martin let out an aggravated sigh.

"It's not that simple," he said, shifting uncomfortably but not looking up.

"So tell us what happened. Maybe we can help," Andrew said. Martin looked up at him. The two boys stared at each other, their mutual stubbornness warring in silence. Finally Martin gave off a defeated sigh.

"I sort of insulted his humanity," he said awkwardly.

"What?" Laura asked in shocked disbelief. "How?" Andrew bobbed his head, asking his brother to elaborate in a way that was so like Stiles it made Martin ache.

"Because I want to be a werewolf, like you guys, like Dad. He just doesn't get it, that's why he's mad. It's stupid," he said dismissively. Andrew looked at him as if he'd been punched in the gut. After a moment his eyes hardened in a way that was also painfully like Stiles.

"Maybe you don't get it," he said roughly before he turned and left.

Andrew getting angry was the final straw for Martin. It was easy enough to brush off Stiles' anger but Andrew was a wolf, there was no reason for him to be offended. Not to mention Stiles and Andrew were the two people he always depended on for support; with both of them angry with him, Martin felt lonely.

Laura was also becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. She, like her siblings, had never seen Stiles truly angry. Worse still, Martin and Andrew had never fought in all the time they'd been alive. It was usually her and Martin at each other's throats and her antagonizing Andrew. It had been a long time since she'd provoked them out of any real malice. For Laura antagonizing was her way of pushing her brothers to be better. It didn't take long for her to decide to act. She cornered Andrew the following day after school.

"Why are you mad at Martin," she demanded flippantly.

"Why aren't you? I mean I know things have been pretty cool between you for a while now, but isn't 'mad at Martin' your default setting? Especially now, I'd think you'd be just as pissed about this as I am," Andrew answered irritated. Laura rolled her eyes at him.

"It's not like this is new. The whole pack has known he wants to be a wolf practically since he started speaking."

"This is different! He's been spinning out of control for a while now and I'm sick of it. What do you think he had to say to Pops to make him so mad? It's not okay anymore," Andrew spat angrily.

"This is stupid. Yeah, Martin needs to grow up and stop whining about being human; but he's not going to get anywhere with you mad at him. It's Martin, he doesn't know how to function without you patting his head and telling him it's okay. And you don't either, for that matter. So stop being a whiny little bitch and be big brother alpha like you always are," Laura said tauntingly before flouncing off.

"Dad, can I talk to you later?" Martin asked cautiously at dinner one night. The question drew Stiles' attention to him for the first time in a while, despite being addressed to Derek. Derek looked at him softly and nodded. Martin could tell Stiles had told him, that he'd been expecting this eventually. After dinner Derek put an arm around his shoulders and led him to the sitting room. They sat beside each other on one sofa, a small space between them.

"You really upset your father," Derek said calmly. "Have you thought at all about what he said?" Martin didn't meet his gaze.

"Not really, no," he answered quietly. Derek nodded.

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Why didn't you turn him?" Martin asked. It wasn't really what he'd meant to say but it was something he'd always wondered. It had been bothering him more lately.

"He never asked me to," Derek answered.

"Would you, if he had?" Derek sighed and didn't answer.

"I would have considered it," he said eventually.

"Why? Why don't you want him to be a wolf?" Neither of them was sure if he had meant 'why don't you want _me_ to be a wolf'.

"It isn't that I didn't want him to be a wolf. I would have been just as happy if he was. But he wasn't. And after a certain point, the risk of giving him the bite would have outweighed his or my desire for it. I think by the time I was willing to turn him, I wasn't willing to risk his life."

"But wasn't it a bigger risk leaving him human? With all the dangerous things that were running around, weren't you already risking his life? He could have died! He could still…" There were tears stinging his eyes. "He could get hit by a car, or get shot, or… or have a heart attack! If he were a wolf he'd be okay. He'd be safe!" They realized at the same time that this was the problem, more than his jealously of his siblings, this was why he wanted the bite. He was weak and frightened and so, so fragile.

"Everyone dies, Martin," Derek said, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

"But not as easily. Humans are breakable, stupidly breakable! Wolves don't die of heart attacks! They don't… they don't scar. They're not weak," Martin's words were fumbling, he needed Derek to understand.

"None of that matters," Derek said softly. He considered for a moment before continuing. "The Argent's left before you were born, so you've never had to deal with hunters, but werewolves can break just as easily. We wolves have a much higher mortality rate than humans because to most people we're monsters. We're things to be hunted and killed. We break, Martin, just as easily as you, but in different ways. And it's humans that break us. And," he said, moving to kneel in front of his son, "sometimes scars help remind us just how breakable we are." He ran his thumb over the scars of Martin's face. "You'll never be as reckless as Laura or Andrew because you'll always remember your limits."

"I'd rather be reckless," Martin whispered, then after a moment, "Andrew's mad at me."

"They're both mad for the same reason," Derek replied gently.

"Why?" Martin asked, because he still didn't understand.

"You need to figure that out for yourself. Think about it." Derek said, kissing him on the forehead and leaving him to himself.

Martin did think about it, he thought about it all night. He didn't sleep. The next day in classes he couldn't focus, could barely keep his eyes open. At lunch Andrew put a comforting arm around him and let him fall asleep with his head on his shoulder. It helped, not just because he needed the sleep, but because he knew he and Andrew would be okay. It gave him the courage he needed to talk to his brother about the fight once they got home.

"Why does it bother you that I want to be a wolf?" Martin asked sincerely as the three of them settled in to do homework. Andrew considered him for a while and Martin started to think he wouldn't answer.

"I used to hate you," he said finally. Martin felt the words like a slap in the face; he couldn't remember a time when they weren't close. Laura also seemed surprised. "The first full moon I can remember Pops brought you down to the cellar for the first time. I was five. You'd never seen a shift before; they were still keeping you away from us a lot. You got scared when it started. You buried your face in Pops' chest and you shook and you cried. And I hated you. I thought it was because you were weak; at least that's what I told myself.

"Then the next month you were there again, pressed up against Pops' side instead of cowering in his lap. You watched me the whole night but you were still shaking. I still hated how weak you were.

"The third time was different. You came down and stood away from Pops and you didn't shake at all, didn't even flinch. When the moon was at its peak and I felt its pull stronger than at any other point, when I wanted nothing more than to rip your throat out with my teeth, you said, 'I'm not afraid of you'. That's when I knew you weren't weak."

"I was though," Martin said, a look of absolute self loathing on his face. "I was terrified."

"I know," Andrew said softly.

"Pops does that too; it's like, the only thing you guys have in common," Laura piped in. "It seems pretty stupid if you ask me."

"It's not stupid. You both say you're not afraid when you're really terrified, so the fear doesn't beat you. It's brave and incredibly strong," Andrew explained. He let out a small scoff before continuing, "But I still hated you."

"Why?" Martin asked, uncertain if he really wanted to know. Laura drew herself up attentively as well.

"I wasn't sure at first. I didn't figure it out completely until after Dad told us about anchors. I hated that you were human, hated that I wasn't."

"But," Martin started, but Andrew cut him off.

"You don't know what the full moon is like for us. It pulls at you in a way that's almost painful and you lose yourself to it. You forget who you are, who you're supposed to be. You become this animal. The full moon is the only time I feel like the monster humans think we are." Laura was nodding along with him.

"But you're human. And because you're human, you keep me human. You have no idea how much your humanity means to me. It's my anchor."

"Me too," Laura said suddenly. "I mean it's different from what Andrew is saying. I... Because of what I did to you." She refused to look at him. His scars were still a barrier between them. "I can keep control now, because I don't want to do anything like that ever again." Martin was overwhelmed with the power of the confession.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he couldn't say anything else, but also because he was beginning to understand what he'd done wrong. Laura let out a derisive laugh.

"I'll say," she said sarcastically, pulling a notebook from her backpack and moving on.

Martin got up early the next morning to wait for his father. After talking to Andrew he'd spent most of the night thinking about how his brother felt and how those feelings might relate to Stiles. He was pretty sure he had everything worked out and he was eager to settle things between them.

"I get it," he said when Stiles came down the stairs. Stiles gave a slight acknowledgement with a glance as he grabbed some breakfast and sat down.

"Then tell me," he said. His tone wasn't as icy as it had been but it wasn't quite friendly either.

"You talked about the humans in our family; Grandma and Uncle Hale and Grandma and Grandpa Stilinski… and you told me to ask Dad about you. But you left someone out," Martin said.

"Oh?" Stiles asked. His expression softened and there was the slightest hint of teasing in his tone.

"Me," Martin said firmly. "I'm Andrew's anchor. And Laura too, I think. She stays human because she knows the price you pay for losing control; she sees it every day in my scars. I give everything I have to whatever I do. And I don't back down from anything… except maybe you. I don't need to be a werewolf because I'm strong enough as I am, and I make the pack stronger too." Stiles nodded at him approvingly but Martin wasn't finished.

"I realized something else too," he started. Stiles bid him to continue with his eyes. "You want to be a werewolf. More than me, more than anyone probably. But it's like when you're afraid of something. All you want to do is run away but you can't because it would be too easy and it wouldn't be right. So instead you say you aren't afraid, you say you don't want the bite and you don't ask for it. Because you can't just run away from humanity, and neither can I. I won't ask anymore, because we're better than that." Stiles beamed at him and Martin felt all the tension that had built up over the week drain out of him.

"You're still grounded," Stiles said without malice.

"Yeah, we'll see," Martin scoffed.

"Smartass," Stiles quipped.

"Human," Martin retorted.

"Right back at you, kiddo," Stiles said, ruffling Martin's hair as he headed out for his shift.

Author's Note: One more chapter coming guys.


	12. Commencement

Stiles had felt proud when he'd graduated from high school. He figured he had a right to it since there weren't many people in the world who dealt with monsters and werewolves on a regular basis and still managed to finish high school, with honors. But his pride back then wasn't even a tiny fraction of what he felt when his children graduated. He figured he had a right to that too, since raising two werewolves and a stubborn brat and getting them through high school without too many major incidents was no small feat either. Not to mention any father would be proud that their daughter was the valedictorian. So what if he cheered so loud and obnoxiously when she stood to give her speech that Scott and Derek both had to yank him into his seat from embarrassment? Laura long distance fist bumped him and said proudly into the microphone,

"That's right Pops!" Erica and Andrew both laughed. Christine - more commonly known as Chris - Scott's daughter and Laura's girlfriend, wolf-whistled loudly. Laura gave everyone her fierce predatory grin and began to address her classmates.

"Right, so you guys all know I'm not the sappy or inspirational type, But Andrew is, so guess who helped with my speech." Andrew laughed again, embarrassed, and most of the class gave a loud cheer. "We all know I'm supposed to say some shit about how we worked hard, and we've got some bright, wonderful future coming. Or I could say how the future is all scary but we made it this far and that determination will get us through life. I'm not going to do that though because it's bullshit and it's cliché as hell.

"What I will say is this: this class, this school, this whole town is a family. We look out for each other, make each other better. Wherever I go, I'll carry you with me, and the same goes for each of you. So whatever happens out there in the world, you're not alone. Your success is our success, your failure our failure. Whenever you need someone to fall back on, Beacon Hills will catch you. And when you're strong enough to go forward, carry us proudly. As long as you can remember that, nothing else matters and nothing can ever truly hurt you. So give 'em hell." She looked over the graduates, catching the eye of a student here or there and sharing a knowing look with Andrew and Martin. Then she found the pack in the stands. Derek gave her a curt nod of approval and Stiles attempted to cheer wildly again but was cut off immediately by the others. But nothing could hold him back when their names were announced and they walked across the stage one by one. Afterwards there were pictures and parties and gifts. Stiles didn't stop smiling all week.

Monday nights were pack nights at the Hale house. They would all gather in the sitting room and talk, play games, or watch T.V. It was something Stiles had insisted on from the beginning and Derek had happily enforced. One particular Monday they had argued for half an hour over what movie to put on before reaching an agreement. Surprisingly it was Martin that moved to put the disc in while everyone else settled in more on the array of sofas. Boyd and Isaac sat at opposite ends of one couch and Erica spread out across them, Allison leaned back into Scott on the opposite couch with their son, Tyler, and Andrew sitting comfortably beside them. On the middle couch Laura and Chris were curling up snuggly on one end while Derek pulled Stiles just a little closer at the other. Martin had been occupying the space between the two couples. He paused after sliding the Blu-ray into the player and surveyed the pack uneasily. After a moment he took a steadying breath and fixed his eyes firmly on his parents.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he announced firmly. Most of the pack looked shocked, Andrew, Laura and Chris were calm, Derek looked mildly puzzled, Stiles was horrified.

"What?" Stiles asked, his voice cracking wildly.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Martin repeated.

"Where?" Derek asked calmly.

"Anywhere," Martin replied. "Everywhere."

"Why?" Stiles asked, pleading and desperate. He sat up rigidly, pulling away from Derek slightly. Martin sighed and took a seat beside him.

"Because I want to, maybe even need to. I love my pack but… I don't want to stay in Beacon Hills forever."

"I think it's a good idea," Andrew said. Stiles shot him a look that clearly said 'traitor'.

"What are you going to do when you're there?" Derek asked. There was an edge in his voice that implied he wouldn't accept the decision without a good answer.

"Find other wolves. Help them, learn from them, anything." Derek nodded. The pack had been isolated for a long time and he could see the wisdom in reaching out to others. Martin turned to Stiles. "I promise I'll keep in touch, and I'll visit sometimes. Tell me this is okay." Stiles groaned helplessly.

"It's okay. You're an adult, you can do what you want. It's probably a good idea anyway. I'll just miss you," Stiles said. Martin hugged him tightly before settling in on the couch more. The pack spent the rest of the evening together and drifted off later than they normally did.

The next morning Martin dropped Derek's old duffle bag, once again packed full, beside the doorway. Stiles eyed the luggage hatefully, it was his enemy.

"Come have breakfast, you're dad cooked," Stiles said, ushering Martin into the dining room. His siblings were seated around the table, Laura looking surly and half asleep with Chris running a placating hand over her back, and Andrew sitting calm as ever if slightly less alert than normal. It was unusual, most mornings Martin was up so early that it was just him and Stiles eating breakfast before his morning shift. Martin loved the pack, but part of him felt a little regretful that they wouldn't have that time together on his last morning home. After a little while Derek came in with heaping platters of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausage. Everyone dug in and they ate in relative silence.

Eventually, by silent agreement, Derek, Stiles, and Martin rose and moved to the front door. Derek pulled Martin into a tight embrace. When he pulled away he gripped the back of his son's neck firmly, locking their gazes.

"If you ever need help with anything, call. We've handled our fair share of trouble, we can help," he said firmly. Martin swallowed hard and nodded slightly; Derek nodded back and released him. He hefted up the duffle and handed it to the young man. "I love you martin, take care of yourself out there."

"Love you too Dad," Martin replied, meeting his eyes again for the barest of seconds before turning to Stiles. Stiles threw his arm around Martin's shoulders and led him outside to Martin's jeep; it wasn't unlike Stiles' had been, but darker.

"Be safe, call for anything at any time, be happy, don't forget us," Stiles said, opening the trunk. Martin slid his bag inside.

"Come on Pops, you're pack; where I go you go, always." Stiles nodded slowly. He watched Martin close the trunk, followed him around the vehicle to check the tires and oil. When Martin turned to him for a final farewell he sighed.

"Look, while you're out there, if you run into the Argents…"

"Pops, I'm not a wolf, they won't…"

"Just listen, Martin. If you see them, tell them Allison's okay and whatever they want to know about her. Don't tell them her kids are werewolves and don't tell them anything about the rest of the pack. Make it clear that you're human. And don't trust any of them. I mean, that goes for all hunters but… You might want to trust the Argent's because of Allison, don't." Martin nodded firmly.

"This is the sort of thing you're good at, so learn everything you can out there. Learn how to recognize monsters, learn to track them, learn to help them, learn to hunt them. Write the world's most comprehensive bestiary and guard it closely."

"You know me," Martin smiled.

"Yeah, I know you," Stiles replied, pulling him into a hug. "Love you, Son. I'll miss you."

"You too, Pops," Martin replied with a rasp to his voice. Stiles released him and trudged off to the police cruiser without another word or backward glance. Martin took a deep breath and got in the jeep.

Martin didn't come home for two years, though he kept in constant contact. When he did come home he was rugged and confident and more at home in his own skin than he ever could have been if he'd stayed in Beacon Hills. Everyone knew he wouldn't stay long; he'd only come back for the ceremony. Derek was stepping down, Andrew would be the alpha.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked calmly. Andrew looked panicked as he shook his head.

"No, not… not ready. I'm not ready. You should… We should wait a few more years. You're a great alpha, there's no need to do this now. We should just wait. Maybe forever," Andrew rambled.

"I'm getting old, Andrew, it's time."

"But what if I'm no good? What if I lead the pack to disaster?"

"You can't be any worse than I was when I started out," Derek answered affectionately. Andrew pulled him into a tight hold and Derek could feel how his son was shaking.

"I can't do this," Andrew said, broken and panicky. Derek sighed and returned the frantic embrace with a warm hug.

"I'll be here to give you advice when you need it, but you won't; you're already an alpha in your heart Andrew, you'll be fine." Andrew took a deep shuddering breath, stepped back, and nodded.

The pack stood in the open area in front of the house, bathed in the light of the full moon; January, the wolf moon. The younger werewolves all felt a low hum of excitement, the older ones a tense trepidation. None of them had ever experienced the change from one alpha to another. They were all milling about, casually trying to ignore their nerves, and chatting quietly. When Andrew and Derek stepped out of the house they all fell silent and watched the pair.

Everyone knew what to expect, they'd been planning this night for quite some time. Derek didn't say anything to them, merely locked eyes with each individually; he looked to Stiles last. After a long pause in which they both reflected on Derek and the pack and how he had led them, Stiles gave a small nod and Derek turned to face their eldest son. A small tremor went though Andrew but his gaze and resolve held steady; here, before his pack, he would be strong.

"I submit to you, both my power and my pack," Derek said firmly. "You are my alpha." Andrew nodded once, stepped forward, and sank his fangs into the flesh of Derek's shoulder. Derek's eyes flashed brilliant red and slowly bled to their old neon blue. He stumbled unsteadily when Andrew retreated a step, and fell into a crouch. He looked up at his son but Andrew was focused intently on Martin.

Andrew could feel his control slipping. He had never felt the pull of the moon so strongly and the newfound power was intoxicating. It frightened him and he tried to hold tightly to his anchor. Whether he'd been expecting this or he just sensed it, Martin stepped closer. He put both hands on Andrew's shoulders and stared into his deep red eyes.

"Just breathe, keep breathing. You're stronger than you've ever been Andrew, you can beat the moon," Martin said calmly. Andrew took several steadying breaths and shifted back to normal, only his eyes left to indicate the change. Martin nodded approvingly. "That's the Andrew I know; my alpha." Andrew gave him a grateful look and began walking before each member of the pack. It was just a formality, they were his pack now, his betas; but each of them dipped their head as he passed and mumbled 'my alpha', promising to follow him like they'd followed Derek.

"I will protect this pack," Andrew promised them in return. He shrugged his head toward the house and they all began wandering back in. Andrew hesitated a moment before falling into step with his siblings. Laura immediately threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug.

"Relax; it's not that big a deal. Hell, Martin's changed more than you," she teased. Andrew smiled and wrapped his arms around both of them.

Stiles helped Derek to his feet and Derek leaned on his shoulder to steady himself. They watched the pack file into the house in silence. When they were alone outside Stiles rested his head on Derek's shoulder and breathed him in.

"You okay?" Stiles asked quietly.

"Yeah," Derek replied. "It's just been a long time since I was a beta; I wasn't expecting to feel so weak."

"Are we strictly talking about your physical well being or…" Stiles let the question hang.

"I'm fine, Stiles. Andrew will take care of the pack; he'll be a good alpha."

"You're sure you're okay? No angst about not being the alpha? No regrets? No sudden need to cry big werewolf tears out of those pretty blue eyes I've missed so much?" Derek laughed lightly.

"I'm fine, really. I promise."

"I'm not," Stiles sighed. Derek tilted his head and gave Stiles a questioning look. "Our babies are all grown up," Stiles explained. "Andrew's the alpha, Martin's a badass, and Laura's gonna propose to Chris any day now; if they don't just elope first. I feel old and… I don't know, like they don't need me anymore." Derek shifted to face Stiles, reading his expression for a moment before kissing him tenderly.

"Kids always need their parents Stiles," he said softly. "They'll always need you, and so will I." Stiles gave him a broken smile, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

"I love you Derek," he said.

"I love you too Stiles."

Author's Notes:

1) A huge thanks to NinjaPandaIzzy for being my beta, letting me bounce ideas off of her, and not letting me half-ass some of the character interactions.

2) Thanks to all of you who read/reviewed/favorited/and enjoyed this fic, you're all awesome.

3) I'm done! Seriously, there will be no more to this, don't ask. However, if you enjoyed my style and characterization keep a look out for my next project Under the Influence, which will hopefully be written and posted in its entirety within a few weeks.


End file.
